The True Story of the Phantom and Christine
by Christine Marie Jonasdotter
Summary: This is based mostly on the novel by Gaston Leroux. Please give comments. This is just a working tittle, as I have not yet found a tittle that is quite right. If you have any tittle suggestions. Rated M for violence and mild adult content, T to be found.
1. Chapter 1: Numbers in Blood

**Hello there everyone. I've noticed some other authors that I have read on here who like go give a little commentary on the story/chapter before it begins. I though that this might help shed some light on things as I have noticed that the chapters that seem to be skipped the most frequently are some of the most important. I first want to say that everything you see posted here is still in draft form and that this is part I of a much larger story. Because this is a draft, there may be a few minor errors that aren't noticable when you first read them, but might cause slight confusion as the story progresses. I will try to clear these up as we go along. This story is based primarily on the novel by Gaston LeRoux and the entire first part is somewhat of a retelling with both original characters and original content. Again, this is only a temporary working title, so if you have any suggestions, I would be more than happy to hear them and graciously thank you for your assistance in the matter. Please enjoy the story and write me your reviews; I love to read them. :)**

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Chapter one: Numbers in Blood

Paris, France August the twenty-ninth, eighteen eighty-five was a stormy evening about eleven o'clock. The evening gala was being performed at the Palais Garnier. They were giving Faustthat night, as usual, but this was no usual Faust. Earlier that day, the house's usual prima donna, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, had mysteriously taken ill. No one is quite sure as to the why, but when they heard of their diva's sudden illness, the soon-retiring managers chose the young soprano playing the role of Siebel to fill in as Marguerite.  
"A bold move," said one critic, "for the newly retiring managers to choose an inexperienced soubrette to fill in for the popular Spanish diva as their last act in management of the opera."  
When asked later as to why they took such a risk, the former managers stated, "She has always shown much potential. We felt that it would have been more of a risk to have to cancel the performance." However, they had seemed to show absolutely no interest in the unknown artist before. The young soprano's name was Christine Daaé.  
Currently, throughout the theatre rang the divine cry of Marguerite's invocation to the angels in the final trio.

Holy angel in Heaven blessed,  
My spirit longs with thee to rest.

Christine sang these words with a divine rapture unlike any other that anyone had ever heard before. Her arms were outstretched, her throught filled with song, and tears streamed from her crystalline eyes as she gave forth this superhuman cry:

Holy angel in Heaven blessed,  
My spirit longs with thee to rest.

The audience burst into a thunderous applause and the overwhelmed Christine fainted into the arms of her fellow performers. No one had ever heard anything quite as exquisite.  
The audience left, every one of them wondering why such a treasure had been kept unknown to them for so long. And why did she not have that same splendour about her whenever she sang as Siebel? It was all a great mystery to them and even to the diva herself.

Later that night, after she had recovered from her fainting fit, Christine Daaé entered her dressing-room, exhausted.  
"What a night...," she murmured to herself, and sat down at the vanity. It was a simple dressing-room with a vanity, an inner-room for changing in with walls of curtains as a privacy aid, a gas lamp, a few cupboards and drawers, a small table with two chairs, a hat rack, and near the vanity, a large mirror which stood on the wall from the floor to the height of a man. On the vanity was a small mirror, a telephone, a hair brush, a powder rag, a pen and ink well, a few sheets of paper, a jewelry box, and a myriad of other odds and ends collected by the diva. Christine sighed and began to brush her long blonde curls. She hummed the tune to a song from her home land, which she probably learned when she was very young, and remained in this far-off dreamy state of mind until she was awakened by the sound of the telephone ringing. Jutting back into reality, she picked it up and answered.  
"Hello," she said.  
"Hello. Umm... who is this," came a woman's voice, which was unfamiliar.  
"This is Christine Daaé speaking."  
"You mean theChristine Daaé? The opera-singer? I am a great admirer of your work, Mademoiselle Daaé."  
"Do excuse me, but may I ask to whom do I speak?"  
"Oh! My name is Willhemina. Willhemina Harker, or 'Mina' for short. Please do forgive me for not stating so earlier, Mademoiselle Daaé."  
"So, Madame Harker, how exactly did you get the number for the telephone in my dressing-room?"  
"I didn't know that it was the number for your dressing-room, honestly!" stated the woman on the other end frantically, "I'm staying at the inn next-door to the opera house and on the dresser in my room, discovered a note, written in red ink, with a telephone number on it. I was curious, so I dialed the number and..."  
"Wait a moment!" interrupted Christine, " Did you say that you found a note written in red ink?"  
"Yes. And might I also say that whoever wrote it should really work on their penmanship. It looks as if it was written with used match-sticks."  
"Very odd...," Christine murmured gloomily.  
"Come again?"  
"It is just strange. The manager have been receiving similar notes written in red ink and addressed to them by the Opera Ghost."  
"The Opera Ghost?"  
"Yes," said Christine, "There is a superstition that has been spread throughout the Opera of a ghost that haunts it. He frightens the dancers, blackmails the managers, and sits in box five at every performance. It seems a bit ridiculous though. A lot of nonsense if you ask me. I cannot believe how many people actually believe in that silly tale. It is just like the legend of Don Juan. Only made to frighten one."  
"Legend or not, why would anyone want to leave me the number for the telephone in your dressing-room?"  
"I do not know...," and she heaved a sad sigh, "Well, enough of this ghost business. Let us talk of something a bit more cheerful. Have you a lover?"  
" I beg your pardon?"  
"A lover."  
"Oh! No, I haven't. And you?"  
"Well... yes. In a way. We were childhood sweethearts. I am not quite sure if he remembers me though..."  
"Oh, that's too bad... Hey! Wait a moment! What is that?"  
"What is what?"  
"There is a trap-door beneath the bed."  
"A trap-door?"  
"Yes. I wonder where it could lead to..."  
"Wait! It would not be wise for one to go down on one's own."  
"But who am I to go with?"  
"I would volunteer."  
"You would?"  
"Yes. I am just as eager to find out who put that note in your room as you are. It is a very curious matter..."  
"Very curious indeed."  
"I will tell you what, I shall come to the inn tomorrow after rehearsal and we shall go down together. Is it a deal?"  
"Deal. I guess I shall see you tomorrow. Good-night, Christine."  
"Good-night, Mina."  
At this, Christine hung up the telephone. She took a brief glance in the large mirror. Satisfied, she walked over to the hat rack and from it took a fur coat, which she put on over her dress. She walked over to the door of the dressing-room, put her hand on the knob, and blew out the lamp, causing the room to become flooded with darkness. She left after first saying these strange words which no one quite understood:

"Good-night, and thank-you, my dear Angel..."


	2. Chapter 2: Man in the Mask

**Okay people, chapter 2 now. I don't believe that there's really anything I have to explain yet, but please PM me if you find anything confusing and I will be more than happy to answer all of your questions to the best of my ability and within a timely manner. Please note that i am working on changing the format to look more like my original file by getting rid of the double spacing. I use my spacing very deliberately and usually only use a double space when i want to indicate a shift in time, or when I want to ofset a particular moment from the rest within that particular scene. If the fact that it is all single spaced is going to bother you and make it difficult for you to read, please let me know and if there are enouugh complaints, I shall return it to its original format. Considering the fact that this format if not keeping any of my indentations however, I feel it may be necessary to return to the double spacing... Thank you very much, and I hope that you continue to enjoy my story. **

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Chapter two: Man in the Mask

The next day, Mina Harker sat in her hotel room, waiting for Christine. She glanced up at the clock, which read twelve thirty-five. A few seconds later, there came a knock at the door. Mina walked over and opened it. Christine Daaé stood there, still dressed in costume as Marguerite from the rehearsal of Charles Gounod's _Faust_.  
"Sorry that I am late," panted Christine, "Monsieur Mercier had me stay after to practice one of the duets."  
"It's alright," laughed Mina.  
"So where is this trap-door?"  
Mina motioned for Christine to follow and led her to the bed. She lifted the bed skirt to reveal a trap-door hidden beneath it.  
"Here it is," said Mina, "Well, what are we waiting for?"  
She lifted the trap-door. It screeched a little at first, but finally seemed to settle in an open position.  
"I think that you should go first."  
"Why is that?," asked Christine.  
"It's alphabetical," Mina reasoned, " 'C' and 'D' come before 'M' and 'H'. It's only fair. Besides, you volunteered."  
"Fine," said Christine. And she gave a groan.  
Christine made her way over to the trap-door. She looked down into the darkness for a moment, wondering what they would see, and then dropped down into the darkness below.

She looked around and saw Mina follow her down into the abyss and without thinking first, close the door behind her. They had dropped down into a dark tunnel.  
"I think that these tunnels run under the Opera," said Mina.  
"That very well may be true, but how do you expect us to find out for sure, seeing as you have brought with us no light?," said Christine with a hint of anger in her voice.  
Mina slapped her forehead, shocked that she could have forgotten something, which now seemed so obvious.  
"I suppose I shall have to go back up and get a candle or something…"  
She pushed up on the trap-door, but it did not budge.  
"It's stuck," she exclaimed, "It must only be able to be opened from the outside."  
"This is simply perfect," said Christine sarcastically, "Now how are we supposed to get out of here?"  
Mina looked down the passage.  
"I guess we start walking."  
Christine heaved a sigh.  
"Suddenly I am beginning to think that this was not such a good idea after all…"

The two walked down the long, dark passage-way. Mina glanced over at Christine and saw that she seemed a bit uneasy.  
"What's wrong? You're not afraid of the dark, are you?," asked Mina jokingly.  
"What would make you think a crazy thing like that?"  
"You're trembling."  
"Alright, I will admit it! I am afraid of the dark! There, I have said it! Are you happy now? What is wrong with that?"  
"Nothing. It's just that… well… you seem a bit young for the opera business. Just exactly how old are you anyway?"  
"Sixteen."  
"Sixteen! Why that's a whole year younger than I!"  
"Wait, what's that?"  
Christine pointed down the passage at the faint glow of a light in the distance.  
"It looks like a lantern," said Mina, squinting to see.  
"We are saved! Monsieur…," Christine began to say, but Mina abruptly placed a hand over her mouth. Christine struggled, trying to free herself from Mina's grasp and at last, Mina removed her hand from Christine's mouth. Christine glared angrily at Mina.  
"What was that for? A light means that there is somebody there. And chances are that if there is somebody there, they can help us to get out of here."  
"Will you just calm down? We don't know to whom the light belongs. It could a kidnapper, or rapist, or a murderer, or any combination of the three for all that we know. We're two young women, lost and stranded in the dark. Face it, we're easy prey."  
"Well then, what do you propose that we do?"  
Mina thought for a moment.  
"I suppose that it couldn't hurt to follow the light. It seems to be headed in the opposite direction. Perhaps it will lead us to an exit. But we must remain silent."  
Christine and Mina began to follow the light from a distance. Periodically, Christine looked around. It almost seemed that she was listening to something until without warning, she tripped and fell to the ground. She couldn't help but to give out a cry of pain. As Mina bent down to help Christine off of the ground, the light ahead of them stopped moving.  
"Christine! Are you alright?"  
"I think so…," said Christine as she tried to get up again. And she gave another cry. She soon noticed that the dim red glow of the light had begun to move again. Only this time, it was headed straight toward them.  
"It is coming this way," she said in a trembling voice.  
"Stay calm, Christine. If they know that you're hurt, it makes us even easier prey."  
"I cannot help it, Mina. I am frightened…"  
Suddenly, the light went out and again, they were surrounded by darkness.  
"It's gone," murmured Mina. She suddenly heard Christine's scream. "Christine! Are you alright?"  
More muffled screams. Christine was struggling to free herself from the grasp of someone- or something. She made one last effort to scream, but a hand was placed over her mouth and she fainted away.  
"Christine, where are you?"  
The same hand that grabbed Christine took hold of Mina's wrist and placed a hand over her mouth.  
"Quiet," came the voice of a man, "You might wake her. Now come."  
The man lifted Mina onto a large white horse, then got onto the horse himself carrying the limp Christine. He gave the horse a little nudge and it trotted down the passage-way.  
Mina watched everything that they passed, awestricken at the sight of this underground labyrinth. Then she noticed the man. He seemed to gaze upon Christine with a certain air about him that Mina couldn't quite put her finger on.  
They soon reached a well at which the man stopped the horse and took Christine off.  
"Who are you and what do you want with us?"  
"You will know soon enough."  
Mina looked down at the unconscious Christine.  
"Is she…," Mina stopped, afraid to finish her sentence.  
"She'll be fine. She just fainted. Might have sprained her ankle when she fell, but nothing too serious. Keep quiet. I am going to try to wake her."  
The man sat down beside the well and laid Christine with her head resting on his lap. He took a handkerchief from his coat pocket, soaked it in some water from the well, rang it out, and began to gently sponge Christine's face. Mina watched him intently. Soon, Christine began to stir. She slowly opened her eyes to find herself face-to-face with a man in a death's-head mask starring down at her. She trembled.  
"Who are you? Where is the voice?," she asked in a voice that was no stronger than a whisper.  
"Voice? What voice?," asked Mina, confused. What could Christine possibly be talking about?  
The man gave a quiet moan. Christine felt a hot breath on her face and perceived the white figure of the white horse in the shadows that nuzzled her side.  
"César?," She asked softly.  
She drifted back into a peaceful sleep.  
"There. See?," said the man, "She's fine. Just a bit tired is all."  
Laying Christine gently beside the well, he turned to Mina and helped her back onto the horse, then returning to Christine's sleeping shilluette, picked her up and got back onto the horse himself. They continued to pass through the underground labyrinth.

During their journey, Christine began to awaken again, but one look at that horrid mask and again, she fainted.  
"How much longer?," asked Mina, beginning to grow impatient with the masked man.  
Almost as soon as she said this, the horse came to a complete stop. The man, still carrying Christine, got off of the horse, motioned for Mina to follow him, and walked to the edge of a vast lake where there was a small boat awaiting them. He and Mina got into the boat and he laid Christine in the bottom. The man picked up the oars and began to row. He rowed the boat across the lake, which seemed to glow an eerie blue from beneath its surface, until they reached a house, which seemed to stand on the water as gracefully as a ballerina on a single toe.  
When they reached the house, the man lifted Christine and exited the boat. He opened the door of the house and walked in followed closely by Mina. He entered a cozy-looking bedroom and laid Christine on the bed. He stroked her cheek, gently, then turned to Mina.  
"State your name, girl."  
"But why?"  
"Do not question. State your name."  
"It's Mina. And this is…"  
"Christine," said the man in a murmured voice, "I already know."  
And with this, he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Carried Off by Love

**Please note that this chapter contains brief violence. Although it is not a chapter that caused this to originally be rated M, the reader should still be warned. I hope tthat you will continue to enjoy your reading.**

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Chapter three: Carried off by Love

It was early the next morning. Mina had fallen asleep on the small sofa and was softly snoring. Christine still slept soundly on the canopy bed in the small bedroom in the house on the lake, which was called the Louis Philippe room. Christine awoke, the masked man from before nowhere in sight. Confused and frightened about where she was, she sat up and looked about frantically, spotting a note, written sloppily in red ink, on the small bed-side table. With a trembling hand, she picked up the note and read it silently.

_My Dear Christine,  
__You need have no concern as to your fate.  
__You have no better, nor more respectful friend  
__In the world than myself. You are alone at  
__Present, in this home which is yours. I am going  
__Out shopping to buy everything that you can need._

She dropped the note, thinking that she and her companion were surely the prisoners of some eccentric madman. She ran about the little room, frantically searching for an exit from this prison she was in. At this moment, Mina woke up.  
"Oh, good," said Mina, "You're awake."  
"Where are we? How did we get here?," asked the panicked Christine.  
"Calm down! We are in the house of the man with the light. He was wearing a mask and rode us here on a white horse, then in a boat across a lake."  
"Where is he now?"  
"I'm not sure. He left right before I fell asleep…"  
Christine sat down on the bed and folded her arms.  
"Well," she pouted, "if we are to be locked up in the house of a man in a mask, then I atleast wish to know of whom we are the prisoners of."  
"I don't think that we are prisoners though. He seemed to have good intentions. He was kind enough to carry you here in his arms after you fainted, and to give us shelter in his own house. You should have seen the way that he kept starring at you. It was so romantic…"  
"But we do not know that he does not mean any harm. Mina, I am frightened!…"  
At this moment, there was three taps on the door. It opened and the masked man entered carrying a myriad of parcels and packages, which he arranged upon the bed. Christine rose furiously, glaring at the masked man, whose only reaction was to gaze upon her in a loving manner.  
"Who are you and what do you want with us?," she demanded.  
"It is true, Christine," said the man after giving a sad, yet passionate sigh.  
Christine gasped. Tears began to form in her sparkling blue eyes, but she dared not let them fall. She trembled all over, fighting back the tears. The tears which came at the recognition of the man's voice.  
"It is true," he continued, "I am not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius. I am Erik."  
"You lied to me," she said in a voice which was so weak, it was nothing more than a breathed whisper.  
"Out of love, Christine! I have carried you here out of love! Do not ever forget it, for I will only state it when I feel it necessary."  
Shaking her head, Christine reached out and tried to pull away Erik's mask as to look upon the lies which hid behind it, but he gently took her by the wrists and stopped her.  
"If your mask hides the face of an honest man, Erik, then I demand that you remove it at once!"  
"You shall never see Erik's face," he said simply, "Now I suggest that the two of you freshen up a bit." He took Christine's watch, wound it, set it, and handed it back to her. "It's two forty-five in the afternoon. I have a nice lunch prepared and waiting in the dining room. I'll be waiting for you," he said, gazing into Christine's eyes. He tried to press a kiss to her hand, but she snatched it away quickly.  
"How long do you mean to keep us here?," she asked him.  
"Five days."  
"Five days!"  
"Yes," said Erik, "By then you will have learned to love me and you will come back from time to time, to see your poor, unhappy Erik."  
Erik walked out of the room and Christine slammed the door behind him. She turned around with her back pressed to the door and sank slowly to the ground. She began to cry.  
"What was all that about?," murmured Mina.  
"I cannot believe that he did that…"  
"Did what?"  
"Well…," Christine began, "When I was a little girl, my father told me of an Angel of Music. He promised me that when he died, I would hear the Angel of Music because he would send him to me. Later, my father died. Then, one day, in my dressing-room, I heard a lovely voice like no other that I had ever heard before. I asked it if it was the angel that my father had promised to send. The voice told me that it was, and has given me lessons every day since. But I should have known that such a dream could never come true… That such a miracle could never truly be…"  
"He did it because he loves you," Mina said, trying to comfort her.  
"Loves me? That does not change what he did…"

A few minutes later, Mina and Christine, came out into the dining room. Christine's face was pale and blotched with pink and her eyes red from tears.  
"Please, have a seat," said Erik gently. And he motioned toward two empty seats at the table.  
Christine and Mina took their seats. Erik popped the cork off the top of a bottle of wine and poured some into two cups, one in front of Mina and the other in front of Christine. Mina starred down at the plate in front of her.  
"What is it?," she asked, starring down at it as if she had seen it move.  
"Chicken and prawns," replied Erik, "The Tokay I brought myself from the Könnigsburg cellars."  
Satisfied with this answer, Mina began to eat.  
Christine sat picking at her food daintily. She glanced up and saw Erik, his eyes fixedly set upon her. This made Christine feel uneasy. Trying to break the awkward silence between them, she attempted to make friendly conversation with him.  
"So, Erik, what is your nationality? Does the name 'Erik' not point to a Scandinavian origin?"  
She took a sip of wine and began to pick at her plate again, waiting for Erik's reply.  
"I have no country nor origins," he said, "I took the name of Erik by accident…"  
He rose and held out his hand toward Christine.  
"Come," he said, "There is something that I wish to show you."  
Hesitantly, she took his hand and he led her to one of the nearby doors. Mina followed them, but just enough so that she could see and was in earshot of what was going on between the two of them. Erik opened the door and, placing an arm around Christine's waist, gently forced her into the room.  
The walls of the ill-lit room were all hung with black and an enormous stave of music with the _Dies Irae_ many times repeated, and in the middle of the room, an open canopy from which hung red brocaded stuff, and under which was an open coffin. Christine trembled. She thought that it looked as if she had been dragged into a mortuary chamber.  
Erik shut the door, leaving Mina outside.  
"This is my room," he said, "That coffin is where I sleep. One must get used to everything in life, even to eternity…"  
This sight greatly upset Christine, who turned her head away sadly. In doing so, she saw a large organ, which filled an entire wall of the room, and on its stand, a music book, which was covered with red notes. The same bloody red from the note in Mina's hotel room, the notes blackmailing the managers, and even the one left on the bedside table in the Louis Philippe room. This sparked the naïve child's curiosity as she moved toward the stand.  
"May I have a look?," she asked.  
"Of course you may," replied Erik, "Your wish is my command."  
She opened up the book and read the title on the first page.  
"_Don Juan Triumphant_…"  
"Yes. I compose sometimes. I began that work thirty years ago. When I have finished, I shall take it away with me in that coffin and never wake up again."  
"You must work on it as seldom as you can," said Christine as she closed the book.  
"I sometimes work on it for fourteen days and nights at a time during which I live only on music," he shrugged, "I do not eat, sleep, or even breath for days and nights at a time. And then, I rest for years at a time."  
"Will you play me something from your _Don Juan Triumphant_?"  
"You must never ask me that," he said gloomily, "I will play you Mozart if you like, which will only make you weep; but my _Don Juan _burns the soul, Christine. And yet, he is not struck by fire from heaven. Come…"

Erik led Christine out of his room and into a drawing room filled with freshly cut flowers that were tied into baskets with silk ribbons and bows. Mina followed them into the room. In the corner stood an upright pianoforte at which Erik took a seat.  
"You see, Christine," he began, "there is some music that is so terrible that it consumes all who approach it. Fortunately, you have not come to that music yet, for you would lose all of your pretty colouring and nobody would know you when you returned to Paris. Let us sing something more _operatic_, Christine Daaé!"  
Before Christine could comment upon this remark, Erik began to play the duet from Verdi's _Otello_. The two began to sing. Christine looked at Erik as they sang. She became more and more curious by the second. What could Erik be hiding behind that hideous mask? She tried not to think about it, but it did not help. Finally, she could resist no longer and in a swift movement which she was utterly unable to control, she tore away the mask and immediately fell back against the wall, terrified at the sight which now appeared before her eyes.  
Erik rose furiously, turning to Christine, revealing the face behind the mask. His dingy yellow, paper-like skin was stretched across his skull like the head of a drum. His eyes were furrowed with dark, black shadows, and were so deep that you could not see the fixed pupils, no matter how hard you tried. Instead of a nose, there was a large black hole as in a dead man's skull. His teeth ground hideously. A few long, dark locks of hair hung in front of his hideously distorted face. His lips looked like melted wax. As a whole, he looked like a demon who was wild with furry, and wild with furry he was!  
Christine cried out of terror and Mina took a few steps back to be sure to stay far out of Erik's way. Erik bent over the trembling Christine.  
"Look! You wanted to see?," he hissed, "See! Feast your eyes! Glut your soul upon my cursèd ugliness! Look at Erik's face! Now you know the face of the voice! You wanted to know what I looked like? Oh, you women are all so inquisitive! Are you satisfied? When a woman has seen me as you have, she belongs to me! She belongs to me forever, alive or dead! I am a sort of Don Juan, you know."  
He raised himself to his full, towering six-foot-three.  
"Look at me! I _am _Don Juan, triumphant!"  
Christine closed her eyes and turned her head away, trying to escape the sight of this hellish nightmare that had appeared before her.  
"Please, Erik! Please! Have mercy upon me," she pleaded.  
"_Mercy_! After what you've done, you expect _mercy_!"  
And he brutally twisted his fingers into her hair, causing Christine to give a cry of pain. He dragged her by her hair into the Louis Philippe room, where he tossed her to the ground, allowing her to crumple to the floor. Mina shadowed behind them, worried. Erik made a move as if to strike Christine and she immediately flinched and gave a cry of terror.  
"I frighten you, do I? I dare say! Perhaps you think that this, my face, is a mask also? Well, tear it off as you did the other! Come along! I insist! Your hands! Your hands! Give me your hands!  
He seized Christine's hands, and leaning over her, tore and scraped at his hideous dead flesh with her nails. Looking straight into those blue eyes, which were so filled with fear, he himself began to cry. Letting go of her hands, he placed his own on her bare shoulders and slid them slowly down her upper arms, gripping them tightly so that she could not escape even if she had tried.  
"Know," he said. His voice had become much gentler but retained a certain masterfulness to it. "Know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves, you and adores you, and will never, never leave you. Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying. Crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again. As long as you had thought me handsome, you would have come back. I know you would have. But now that you know my hideousness you would run away for good. You leave me no choice. You must remain here forever!… Why did you want to see me? Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me. When my own father never saw me. And my mother, so as not to see me, presented me with my first mask."  
Erik, now in tears himself, let go of the frightened Christine and softly caressed her tear-dampened cheek with his own bony hand, then dragged himself out of the room, weeping and slamming the door behind him.  
Christine sat up, powerless and in shock. Tears were streaming from her eyes. Mina bent down beside her. In the background was heard the bellowing sound of Erik at his organ and his remark about "operatic" music became clear, for the despairing dissonance heard presently was clearly the work of his _Don Juan_.  
"Are you alright?," asked Mina, "He shouldn't react so harshly. How were you to know?"  
Christine remained unmoved, oblivious to Mina. The tears in her eyes had stopped. She stood with an expression of weakness and shock, but her eyes now softened with pity, which replaced the fear. Mina looked at her, puzzled as she walked silently toward Erik's door, as if in a trance. She opened it subconsciously, as if in a dream, or being controlled by some outside force, against which, she was completely powerless.  
As she walked into the room, Erik ceased playing the organ and stood, but dared not to turn in her direction. She walked toward him, slowly.  
"Erik…," she said timidly, "show me your face without fear… I swear that you are the most unhappy and sublime of men… And if ever again I shiver when I look at you… it will be because I am thinking of the splendour of your genius.  
Erik turned around, overjoyed, and embraced Christine deliriously. He then fell at her feet and kissed the hem of her dress. What he did not see, however, was that Christine had closed her eyes and sadly, turned away from him, disgusted at the sight.


	4. Chapter 4: Mistress of the Night

**Okay, I actually have 2 warnings for this chapter. First warning, this chapter contains vampires. Yes, I know what your thinking, "why does everything have to have vampires?" I must let you know that I am not personally a fan of vampires myself, however, I have a good friend who refused to read this if I did not put at least one vampire in. Well, now there is a vampire. The vampirism is not, however, important to the plotline of the story at all and most of the time, the vampire is merely acknowledged as another "normal" human being throughout the duration of this novel. My Second warning is that there is one scene near the very end of the chapter that could be classified as slightly provocative material. you have been warned. I hope youu enjoy. :)**

* * *

Chapter four: Mistress of the Night

Later that evening, Christine, Mina, and Erik were sitting in the living room of the little house on the lake. The scene was one which could be described as picturesque. Mina sat in a chair, quietly reading a book, while Erik and Christine sat side-by-side on the sofa with Christine's head resting on Erik's shoulder, Erik's head resting on Christine's head, and Erik gently running his fingers through Christine's golden curls. He was still unmasked and Christine's own face was flushed and uneasy.  
"Erik?," she said weakly.  
"Yes, my dear?"  
"Must I stay here _forever_?"  
"Is that not what I said?"  
"But I _promise_ to return if only you would…"  
"When you removed my mask," he said, firmly cutting her off, "you signed a contract, selling yourself to me!"  
Christine closed her eyes and gave a despairing sigh.  
"Perhaps…," he added gently.  
They sat like that for a few minutes more until suddenly, Erik's head rose. He stopped running his fingers through Christine's hair and placed his arm around her waist. In turn, Christine opened her eyes and turned to face him.  
"What about the packages?," he said in a frantic manner.  
"What about them?," asked Christine.  
"I go into town to buy the two of you gifts and you don't even bother to go open them?"  
Trying to calm Erik, Christine said, "If it will make you happy, then we will…"  
But she was stopped before she could finish her sentence because Erik stood, and having not let go of her, she was forced to do the same.  
He began to walk to the Louis Philippe room, taking Christine with him. As he passed Mina, he grabbed her arm with his free hand, which caused Mina to drop her book and go along with him.  
When they entered the Louis Philippe room, Erik let go of them.  
"Well, what are you waiting for?," he asked impatiently.  
Mina and Christine looked down upon the packages and each selected one with their name upon it. They opened the boxes carefully.  
"They're gowns!" exclaimed Mina.  
"Thank you… Erik," Christine said softly.  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Erik, "Try them on."  
He stood, gazing upon Christine. She shrunk a bit.  
"Umm… Erik," she said timidly, "I do not mean to sound rude, but… do you mind giving us a little privacy?"  
"Oh! Sorry…," said Erik. And he left the room.

A few minutes later, Christine and Mina emerged from the Louis Philippe room. Mina was dressed in midnight blue with a black lace trim and Christine was clothed in a pale pink lined with a delicate lining of white lace and silk ribbon roses. Erik was nowhere in sight.  
"Erik?" Christine called.  
She glanced around, then walked to the door of Erik's room and opened it silently. Inside, she found Erik sitting at his organ, crying. She went over to him and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder.  
"Erik? Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine…"  
"What is the matter?"  
"Nothing! Nothing at all!…," he said, drying his eyes.  
The pair moved to the living room where Mina was waiting.  
"I'm quite thirsty," Mina said in an accent, which was not quite her own and could have easily been mistaken as Romanian. This frightened Christine.  
"Mina," she said in a trembling voice, "Why are you speaking like that?"  
"What do you mean?" asked Mina, her voice having returned to normal. "I'm speaking like I always have."  
"No! You had a strange accent."  
"Christine, you must be hearing things."  
Erik glared at Mina briefly.  
"I know what I heard…," Christine murmured.  
At this moment, Erik intervened.  
"Come, Mina," he said as he went into the kitchen. He poured a red liquid into a goblet, which he then handed to Mina.  
"Ah, my favourite," said Mina as she gulped down the red beverage and licked her teeth. Christine saw this and was instantly sent into a panic.  
"Mina, your teeth!" she exclaimed.  
"What about them?"  
"Mina…," warned Erik.  
"What?" whined Mina.  
"I think that it's time to tell her."  
Mina gave a sad sigh.  
"Tell me what?" asked Christine.  
Mina turned to Erik, hoping that he would tell for her.  
"Mina's a…," Erik began, but he stopped himself before he could complete his sentence.  
"A what?" asked Christine.  
Erik looked into Christine's soft, sparking blue eyes, so naïve and full of innocence. He couldn't tell her. What would she think of Mina? Of him? He shook his head sadly.  
Suddenly came Mina's voice from behind. "A vampire."  
Christine turned her pale face toward Mina, her eyes wide with fear. Slowly, she backed away from Mina, moving closer toward Erik, who put his arms around her, trying to comfort the poor child. She stood trembling in his arms.  
"Christine, I'm not going to hurt you…"  
"Stay away from me," Christine said bitterly as she fingered the silver jeweled cross on the chain she wore around her neck.  
"Christine, I…," and she made a move as if to try to take Christine's hand, but Christine quickly drew her hand away and gave a cry. Breaking free of Erik's grasp, she ran to the Louis Philippe room, slamming the door behind her.

Christine locked the door. Now alone in the little room, she curled up on the bed and began to cry.  
There came a tap at the door, after which, Erik entered, closing the door behind him, nevermind the fact that Christine had previously locked it.  
"Are you about done with this little fit of yours?"  
"Go away," she sobbed.  
Erik went over and sat down on the bed beside Christine. He placed his hand upon her back, running it up and down slowly. She turned her head to face toward him.  
"You know that Mina would never hurt you," he said.  
"How can you say something like that? I thought that Mina was my friend, not a blood-sucking demon!"  
"Christine, don't say that about Mina. She has proven herself a very loyal friend. Just because you have this new information, it doesn't change that. Besides, if she were going to hurt you, she would have done it a long time ago. She has had ample opportunity to do so.  
Christine sat up.  
"I suppose that much is true…"  
"I suggest that you go apologize to Mina. She was very hurt about the way that you reacted," he said after placing a hand under Christine's chin and turning her face toward him.  
Christine smiled at him. He helped her up from the bed and led her to the drawing room where Mina was waiting. Christine went up to Mina.  
"What do you want?" asked Mina bitterly.  
"I just wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier…"  
"Apology not accepted!"  
"Mina, I was wrong to do what I did. You would not hurt anyone and I am sorry that I ever doubted so. Can you ever forgive me?"  
"Well… if you put it that way, then I suppose so."  
"Thank you, Mina. But I am curious. How did you become a… a…"  
"A vampire? It's a long story. I'll tell you some other time."  
"We should all really be going to bed," said Erik. "It's getting late."  
"You are right," said Mina. "Goodnight, Erik."  
Mina left and Christine began to follow.  
"Christine, may I speak to you for a moment?" asked Erik.  
"Yes," she said, coming over to him. "What is it?"  
"I just wanted you to know that I love you," he said, drawing her closer to him. "I love you like the sky loves the sun in the day and the moon in the night. The sun, which is so golden like you hair. The moons fair face like your own, so radiant. I love you like the breeze loves the sea. The sea, which is so blue and sparkling as your eyes; like sapphire stars shimmering in the night so brightly and making the morning radiant. I love you like the cool, soft dew loves the petals of a sweet rose. A rose so sweet, deep red, and luscious as your lips which I long, so deeply, to taste…"  
At this, he closed his eyes and began to draw his lips close to Christine's, but before their lips could touch, she turned her head away.  
"Erik! Erik! Enough! This has gone much too far!"  
She loosened herself from his terrifying grasp.  
"But Christine, my dear, I love you…"  
And she said solemnly, "I am sorry, Erik, but I do not feel the same! Goodnight!"  
Christine rushed off to the Louis Philippe room, leaving Erik standing there, shattered. But his heart would not be defeated that easily. No, Erik was madly in love with Christine and willing to do anything to make her his bride, whether that meant she would be his wife in life, or in death.


	5. Chapter 5: Escape from the house on

**Okay, here's where part of it might get confusing. At one point Mina says "another rat" and you'll probably be thinking "What rat? There was a rat in this story?" Originally in chapter 2, while Christine and Mina were walking in the tunneels, there was a rat. However, this content was removed because it seemed extranious to the plot of the story. When Mina makes her rat reference within this chapter, she is refering to the events in chapter 2. In this chapter, Meg and Mme Giry are also introduced. Meg, like in the ALW version, is simply a friend of Christine. However, Mme giry requires a bit more explaining. She is also a friend of Christine. However, her knowledge of Erik could be accidentally taken to be like that of the ALW mme giry when she is really based off of the LeRoux one. When Christine refers to Erik as "he" to Mme Giry, she is not refering to him as her Angel of Music at all, or even as Erik, but instead as the Opera Ghost, which is what Mme Giry knows him as. She is still the keeper of box 5 and the one who personally delivers all of the ghost's messages. Aparently the Ghost has made several requests to meet with Christine in the past, but Christine merely laughed at Mme Giry, refusing to believe that there was such a thing as a ghost who haunted the opera house.**

* * *

Chapter five: Escape from the House on the Lake

Paris, France, September the fifth, eighteen-eighty-five. Christine and Mina sat alone in the Louis Philippe room. In the background was heard the distant rumble of Erik's organ. Mina was sitting on the sofa reading a book, half-listening to Christine, who spoke to her while sitting on the bed and brushing her hair.  
"He frightens me, Mina!"  
"He doesn't bite… It's the face, isn't it?"  
"No! It is the way that he acts whenever I am around him! He keeps starring at me with this strange, obsessed look on his face! He sighs! He moans! He cannot seem to keep his hands and eyes off of me. Why, just the other night, he grabbed me, drew me very close to him, started raving about how much he loves me, and tried to kiss me right then and there. Luckily, I managed to get him off of me before things got out of hand, but…"  
"That seems like a very strange thing for you to do, Christine. Really, the two of you seem to get along so well together. A little _too_ well if you ask me."  
And she gave a coy grin. Christine rolled her eyes.  
"Oh, stop it, Mina! It was simply scandalous! I have to play along or Heaven knows what he will do to me! Besides that, he claims that I am his prisoner; that I am his slave! He will not let me go. He means to keep me here, at his side, forever. My only hope of escape is to play along and try to bribe him into letting me free. Or… or to run away…"  
"You'll never make it out on your own. He's sure to catch you."  
"Then come with me, Mina!"  
"Come with you! How is that supposed to make it easier to escape?"  
"I have no where to go afterward where he is not sure to find me. Perhaps you know of somewhere?"  
"Well, now that you mention it, I am a bit sick of this place. I do have a friend that we could stay with. He's a count and has lots of extra space. We could stay with him. I'm sure that he wouldn't mind; especially not if I brought a lady friend with me. Besides, he's been expecting a visit from me."  
"Oh! That would be simply sublime!"  
"Okay, but how do we get out while Monsieur le tall, dark, and crazed is on guard?"  
Christine thought for a moment and then began feeling around the walls.  
"Perhaps there is a trap-door," she said. "Like the one in your room in the inn…"  
"Good-luck finding one! The trap-door in my room was pure chance. You'll never find one in…"  
At this moment, Christine placed her hand on a portion of the wall and it opened before them.  
"…here…"  
The two looked through the wall that had just opened.  
"Well that was freakish…," said Mina.  
"Come on…"  
Christine began to walk through the passage.  
"Woah! We don't know if that passage leads out. And besides that, you're afraid of the dark; and I am not going to save you from another rat!"  
"That well may be, Mina, but this is one risk that I am willing to take."  
"And if he catches you, he'll first beat you, and then begin to get all emotional and finally, prevent you from ever leaving again and force you to become his little wife, and we'll all live miserably ever after. The end."  
"I do not care, Mina! I would rather die than remain here forever!"  
And holding back tears, she rushed into the passage. Sighing, Mina followed her.  
They went down the ill-lit passage until Christine noticed a small hole in one of the walls. She stopped a moment and looked through the little hole, only to see Erik sitting at his organ.  
Mina, still trying to catch up to her, bumped the wall a little.  
Erik must have heard her, for he stopped playing and rose from his seat at the organ. He then left the room.  
Panicking, Christine and Mina rushed down the tunnel until they reached a door, which led them to the outside of the house on the lake.  
Slowly, Christine began to make her way to the front of the house, but right before she fully turned the corner, rushed back behind and quietly peered around.  
Erik had come out of the door. Christine trembled behind the relative security that she had behind the wall, fearful that Erik should have seen her. Mina came up from behind.  
"Christine," she whispered.  
Christine made a sign for her to remain silent, then peered around the corner of the wall again. At last, after checking around, Erik went back into the house.  
Christine gave a relieved sigh, then motioned for Mina to follow her. They crept silently to the lakeshore and into the little boat fastened to the iron wraf. The two paddled across the deathly still lake.

Later, the two reached the end of yet another long, dark passageway and pressing on the wall of the end, triggered a door which led into Christine's dressing-room. When they entered the dressing-room, Christine looked back and saw that they had entered through the large mirror on the wall.  
"Where are we?" asked Mina as she looked around.  
"It looks like my dressing-room. I had no idea though that there was another door behind the mirror… But enough of that! I have a friend who can help to arrange us transportation. Come."  
They left the dressing-room and began to roam the halls of the opera.

Soon, they came across a girl who was obviously one of the dancers of the corps de ballet. She immediately recognized Christine, as did Christine recognize her.  
"Christine! Everyone has been so worried! We've had to find one of the chorus members to do the role of Siebel in the past few performances of _Faust._ Where have you been?"  
"There is no time for this right now, Meg. We need you to take us to your mother at once. It is urgent!"  
Meg cocked her head a bit at first, but then said, "Alright the. Follow me…"

Christine and Mina followed Meg to a portion of the ballet dormitories of the opera. She opened a door and led them inside of a small apartment. Inside, Meg's mother, Madame Giry was quietly sitting and reading a book. As the three entered, Madame looked up from her book and smiled at them.  
"Ah! You have returned," said the old dame. "Where were you?"  
"With _him_…" Christine replied.  
"I see… Meg, leave us for now."  
Obediently, Meg exited her mother's room, but remained listening behind the door.  
"Now, what happened, Child?" Madame Giry asked gently.  
Poor Christine burst into tears.  
"He…"  
"Hold on a moment… Meg! I said to leave for now! Get out from behind that door," the omniscient mother said to her daughter. This time, however, Meg reluctantly left.  
"Now, tell me everything."  
Christine shook her head. "Please, Madame! We must leave at once or he will find us."  
"Please, Madame," chimed Mina, "we need a way to get to Romania."  
"Romania? Christine, dear, what is this all about?"  
"I cannot go back, Madame. He is too horrible. He will not let me go."  
"And what of your friend?"  
"Mina?…"  
"Madame, there's no time! We must leave now!"  
"Please, Madame Giry, can you arrange transportation for us?"  
"Of course I can. I shall have a ride arranged for the both of you on the next train to Romania."

The next night, Christine and Mina stepped off of a train in the Romanian train station, each carrying a bag filled with some of their personal belongings. They walked down to the road and Mina waved down a cab that was passing by. The driver was wearing a cloak, which hid his face.  
"We would like to go to Transylvenia, sir," said Mina as she handed him a bag full of coins.  
The driver motioned for the two young ladies to get in. And they rode off, making their way through the dreary Romanian countryside.

A couple hours later, the dab stopped and Christine and Mina stepped out into the pouring rain, holding their bags. In front of them, stood a large, stone castle surrounded by sheer cliffs and an ire forest. Vines of ivy climbed wildly up those towering walls guarded by terrifying gargoyles. The cab pulled away.  
"Here we are," said Mina. "Count Dracula's castle."


	6. Chapter 6: Dracula's Castle

**This chapter contains another vampire. However, you probably figured that out from the title. Again the fact that Dracula is infact a vampire (well duh, you already knew that :P) is not imortant to the plot line. Don't worry; he's the last one. I promise. Pay attention to Christine's note though. It will become very important later on. I hope that you continue to enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy creating it.**

* * *

Chapter six: Dracula's Castle

Christine and Mina walked through the rain to the towering wooden doors of Dracula's Castle. Mina lifted the huge bronze doorknocker on the front of the oak wood door and knocked once. A peephole opened and a pair of eyes peered out. As quickly as it had been opened, it closed again and the door creaked open just a crack.  
"Ah, Mina! Please, do come in," came a man's voice from the inside.  
The door squeaked open further and Mina and Christine walked in. The door slammed shut behind them.  
The man walked up to Mina and the two gave eachother a quick hug.  
"Why, you've only gotten even prettier since the last time that I saw you," said the man. "Hello… Who have we here?"  
"Oh! This is my friend, Christine Daaé. Christine, this is count Dracula."  
"A pleasure to make you acquaintance," said Dracula, pressing a kiss fervently to Christine's hand.  
"Bonjour…," she said shyly and giving a little curtsy.  
He walked around her, studying her features closely, then gave an approving smile.  
"You have a very lovely neck," he said. "Lilly white, like that of a swan…"  
"Mercie…," she said, blushing.  
At this moment, Mina pulled Dracula aside and began speaking to him in a low voice, so as Christine could not hear what she was saying to him.  
"If you so much as harm one hair on her head, I will see to it that every vampire slayer in all of bloody Europe knows that you are here."  
Dracula gave a sly smirk.  
"Would I do something like that?" he asked, assuming a tone of false innocence.  
"Anyway," said Mina, now in a voice which was clearly audible to all parties present, "Christine and I were wondering if we could stay here for a while."  
"Please, Monsieur," chimed Christine. "I hope that you will not mind…"  
"Not at all," said Dracula. "Follow me. I will show you to your room.

He led them up the stairs and down the hall until they reached a door, which he opened before them, revealing inside a small bedroom with two beds, a desk, an old wardrobe, and in the corner of the room, a vanity with a mirror.  
"Well, here we are," he said. "I hope that the two of you will enjoy your stay here."  
He left.  
Christine and Mina walked into the room. They each set their bags down on a bed and began to unpack their belongings. Mina glanced over watching Christine unpack and saw her take out a small note, which she held closely to her heart with tear-filled eyes.  
"What have you got there?" asked Mina curiously.  
Christine quickly hid the note behind her back.  
"It is nothing! Nothing at all!"  
"If you say so… Christine, you've been acting a bit strangely since we've left. You don't… I mean, he's… Do you…"  
"No! Oh, Heavens no!"  
"Then what's with the note?"  
Christine sighed.  
"An old friend of mine…"  
"The same one that you told me about?"  
Christine nodded.  
"I see… Hey, Christine?"  
"Yes, Mina?"  
"What is the time?"  
Christine looked down at her watch.  
"It has stopped! I must have forgotten to wind it before we left…"  
And Christine stood, walking to the front door after first folding the letter and tucking it in her bodice.  
"Where are you going?"  
"To find a clock."  
And she left the room, Mina frantically getting up and following after her.

They searched up and down, trying to find a clock, until they came upon a grand library. Christine and Mina looked around the enormous twenty-foot high shelves and cathedral ceiling from the middle of which, hung an enormous crystal chandelier. The shelves were covered with dusty old books of every variety.  
"Very impressive," said Christine, awestricken. "But is there a clock?"  
"I'm not sure. I think that there is, but this room is so big. It might take a while to find."  
Christine heaved a sigh and leaned on a shelf nearby. Suddenly, the shelf next to it slid aside, revealing a dark passageway.  
"Well that was weird," said Mina. "Come on, let's go!"  
"But what about the clock?"  
"The clock can wait. Aren't you up for a little adventure?"  
"Well… yes. But…"  
"Oh, don't be such a scaredy cat! You went through the trap door in my room."  
"Yes, and look at where it has gotten me!"  
"Come on, Christine. Besides, it's not like we don't know where we're going. It'll just lead to another part of the house. Trust me. Besides, we have nothing to be afraid of here…"  
"I suppose," said Christine with a hint of self-doubt.  
And she and Mina entered the passage.

The two walked down the dark passage, Mina bravely leading the way while Christine followed closely behind, trembling, until they reached a small, cellar-like room with nothing but a few coffins in it.  
"What is this place?" asked Christine. "It is as if we are entering a mortuary chamber…"  
"This must be the coffin room. And if this is the coffin room, then that means…"  
She pushed a stone on one of the walls and it opened up into a bright room.  
"Aha!"  
Christine and Mina walked into the flood of light and entered a chapel, which was filled with golden and marble statues. Dracula was sitting at the organ. He looked over in their direction and the wall which they had entered through closed behind them.  
"What are you doing here?" asked Dracula.  
"We were just trying to…," Christine began.  
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"  
"Well, yes. But I was just looking for…"  
"No excuses! I want the two of you out of here immediately!"  
"But how?"  
"I suggest that you go back the way you came."  
"But which way is…"  
"Come on, Christine," said Mina, motioning for Christine to follow her. And so, the two left the chapel.

Later on, they were back in the library, searching for the clock.  
"Is there not a clock in this entire house?" moaned Christine.  
"Yeah, your watch."  
"Do not get technical with me, Mina! I mean a working clock." And she gave a leer.  
"Relax! I was just joking…"  
At this moment, a tall and handsome stranger walked up to them from behind and tapped Christine on the shoulder. Christine turned around, startled.  
"I beg you pardon, Miss," he said in a charming accent. "But…"  
"Who are you? Asked Mina angrily, getting in the stranger's face.  
"Please, do not mind me. I am merely a servant here, in my master's house. I was just wondering what the two of you are doing in the library so late. It's not good to read in so ill of light."  
"We were just looking for a clock," said Christine, timidly.  
"Well look no further. I shall take you to it."  
Christine and Mina followed the dashing stranger into a deeper part of the library, where they came upon a large grandfather clock before them.  
"Well, here we are," said the stranger.  
"Thank you, Monsieur," said Christine, giving a smile. And she took out her watch and began to set it.  
"Please, allow me," said the stranger, taking the watch from Christine's hands. He looked at the clock, and then back at Christine's watch, winding it and setting it to the correct time. He then handed the watch back to Christine.  
"Midnight exactly," he said. "There you are. Good as new. Next time, do not forget to wind it."  
"Thank you for all of your help," said Christine.  
Christine and Mina began to walk away. As they did so, Christine dropped her watch, but the two ladies did not notice and continued to walk away. The stranger saw this and picked up the watch.  
"Wait, Miss!"  
Christine turned around.  
"Yes, Monsieur?"  
"You dropped you watch."  
Christine hurried over to the stranger.  
"Oh, thank you, Monsieur. How very clumsy of me…"  
"Just learn to be more careful next time…"  
As Christine took the watch from the stranger, the two looked into eachother's eyes. A chill ran down Christine's spine as she gazed into the eyes of the stranger.  
"I am not quite sure as to what it is," said Christine, "but there is something almost familiar about you. Have we met before?"  
"I don't believe so. I always remember a pretty face."  
Christine felt a warm blush entering her cheeks. "Well, goodnight, Monsieur…"  
"Goodnight, Miss."  
Mina and Christine again, began to leave. Right before she left the room, Christine took one final glance back at the handsome and charming young man who had secretly captured her heart."

Mina and Christine sat in their room, now dressed in their nightclothes. Christine sat at the vanity, brushing her hair, while Mina was at the desk, reading a book.  
"He was hitting on you," said Mina.  
"Oh, stop it, Mina! Why, if I had a cent for every time that a man behaved that way around me, I would be richer than Queen Victoria of England!"  
"Oh really? Care to elaborate on that statement?"  
"Well, to start, Erik, the conductor at the train station, the cab driver, Count Dracula, that servant we met… Need I say more?"  
"Point taken."  
"Mina…"  
"Yes, Christine?"  
"Did you find something a bit… familiar about that servant?"  
"No, but he must be fairly new. I've never seen him around here before…"  
"I suppose that I am just imagining things…"


	7. Chapter 7: The Fammiliar Stranger

**Warning: this chapter contains some adult material and violence, and is one of the reasons why this story was originally rated M. If you take offence in the material contained within this chapter, I must advise you not to read on as scenes will only become more intense and more graphic as time progresses. If you're wondering to yourself "Why on earth would she put something like this in here?" it slowly becomes more clear as the story progresses, however it will not be fully explained until approximately the beginning of part VI In the meantime, I hope you will be able to overlook this event and enjoy continuing to read the story.**

* * *

Chapter seven: The Familiar Stranger

It was the next morning. Christine woke up and gave a yawn.  
"Good morning, Mina…"  
She looked around, but Mina was nowhere in sight.  
"That is odd. Where could she be?"  
The put on a thin lace robe over her sheer white gown and tied it with a white ribbon, then headed out to look for Mina.

She came upon the coffin room from the night before and looked about it nervously.  
"Mina?" she cried softly. "Mina, are you in here?"  
Christine glanced around and noticed that one of the coffins was slightly ajar. Carefully, she pushed the lid open a bit more and saw Mina sleeping inside. She made a move as if to try to awaken her, but Mina jolted awake and seized her wrist. Christine shrieked in terror and surprise.  
"What are you doing here?" demanded Mina.  
"I was worried. When I woke up, you were nowhere in sight…"  
"Get out of here! Can't a woman get some sleep?"  
"I am sorry…"  
"Don't be sorry; be gone!" And she closed the lid of the coffin once more.

Christine walked down the hall on her way back to her room. She was in a very pensive frame of mind and therefore did not notice the stranger, who stood nearby, until she had run into him and fallen on the floor. Dazed, she passed a hand over her forehead.  
"Are you alright, Miss?"  
"I am fine, thank you," stuttered Christine. "I beg your pardon for running into you like that…"  
"Don't worry about it," he chuckled as he helped her to her feet. "Where are you headed in such a hurry? Shouldn't you be dressed by now?"  
Christine blushed, embarrassed that she was in her night clothes before a man whom she had barely met and who she didn't even know the name of. She pulled her robe more closely around her, trying to better cover herself.  
"I was just headed back to my room…"  
Hurriedly, she began to leave, but the stranger caught her arm and stopped her.  
"I pray you stay a while."  
"Please, Monsieur, I am not appropriately dressed!"  
"What are you so worried about? There is no one her but ourselves."  
"Well…," Christine thought a moment. "I suppose it could not hurt… But only for a minute!"  
The stranger smiled warmly.  
"Come," he said. "Follow me…"

A couple of minutes later, they came upon a glass door which led out onto a balcony. The stranger held Christine's hand. She had her eyes closed as he led her out onto the balcony.  
"Can I open them yet?" she asked.  
"Not yet…"  
He led her to the edge of the balcony, let go of her hand, and placed an arm around her waist.  
"Okay," he said. "Now open them."  
Christine opened her eyes to see a breathtaking view of the splendid Romanian countryside. It was full of rolling hills and thick, sylvan forests. Above, a golden sun rose over a gold, pink, and orange sky dotted with the occasional whisp of an ivory cloud or a bird in flight. In the distance, sat majestic, snow-capped mountains.  
"It is beautiful," Christine breathed.  
"Not nearly as beautiful as you."  
"Flattery will get you nowhere," she said, blushing.  
"As long as it gets me a moment with you, then I am satisfied. Come, sit."  
The stranger led Christine over to a bench, which sat on the balcony, and the two sat down. Christine gazed up at the sky.  
"Is the sunrise not amazing?" Christine sighed dreamily.  
"I almost didn't notice. I've seen it so many times before. I sometimes get quite lonely here…"  
"How do you mean?" she asked, turning to him.  
"There's no one for me to just sit and talk to here. No friends… no family… no wife…" And he took Christine's hands in his own. "And you, I want you to be that wife."  
"Monsieur, I hardly even know you! I do not even know your name…"  
"But I know yours… Christine!"  
Christine's expression changed to one of terror as in one swift movement, the stranger had pinned her to the bench, drawn a knife, and held it close to her throught. She trembled.  
"Quiet," said the stranger. "I don't want to have to hurt you…"  
"Why are you doing this?" Christine asked.  
The stranger leaned in close to Christine, putting his mouth near her ear.  
"Because," he whispered "I am a sort of Don Juan, you know!"  
"Erik!"  
Confirming Christine's suspicions, he covered her mouth and continued his hissed whisper into her ear.  
"Did you really think that I wouldn't find you? That I wouldn't see? Did you really think that by running away you could ever be free? Your chains are still mine and will forever be. Your debt must be paid – you belong to me!"  
Erik put away his knife, but this did not calm Christine's fear. She struggled, trying to free herself of Erik's grasp, but alas, it was all in vain. He began to draw his lips toward hers, which trembled, too terrified to cry out. But right bemire their lips could touch, Christine managed to knee him "where it hurts" (it you get the meaning), and used this opportunity to escape. However, Erik soon recovered from his moment of pain and began to pursue after her.

Christine ran down the hall, pursued closely by Erik (who was gaining rapidly), until she finally reached the door of her room. She quickly went into the room and tried to close the door, but Erik was already upon her.  
From the inside of the door, she leaned against it, trying to barricade it, while on the outside, Erik threw his weight against the door, trying to open it. The door moved open a bit, and despite Christine's efforts, Erik seemed to be, at the moment, succeeding.  
"Christine," he bellowed. "Christine, open this door!"  
"Leave me," the poor girl cried. "I am not your slave!"  
"If you don't want to remain my prisoner forever, then you are not helping your case any by running away from me! Love me, Christine! Love me and you will see!"  
"I would much rather die!"  
"Such things can be arranged, my dear," said Erik, furiously. "If you will not come, then so be it! You will not even be given the privilege of dying! May death itself pity you!"  
Erik stormed off and Christine opened the door a bit and finding Erik nowhere in sight, closed the door again and heaved a sigh of relief. She was trembling and tears streamed down her cheeks. She locked the door and walked over to the bed, where she laid until dark.

It was evening and she still lay there. Her face was flushed and her eyes were red from crying. There came a knock upon the door. Christine raised her head and turned toward it.  
"Who is there?" Christine called weakly.  
"It is I, Mina! Unlock the door!"  
Christine got up and unlocked and opened the door. Mina entered, greatly refreshed after a good day's sleep.  
"Good evening, Christine," said Mina, cheerfully. Then she noticed Christine's face. "Oh dear… What happened?"  
"Erik…," said the despairing Christine.  
"Erik! But how?"  
"I was right in saying that there was something very familiar about that stranger…"  
"Are you alright?"  
"Other than nearly being raped, being chased through the halls, having to barricade myself in here, and having Erik yell hideous curses at me, I have had a simply splendid day, most of which was spent in here, crying!"  
"I'm sorry, Christine…"  
It is not your fault, Erik is mad!" and she gave a sob.  
"That's it! I'm going to find that man and teach him a lesson…" and she headed toward the door.  
"Wait!" cried Christine.  
Mina stopped.  
"Do not leave me here alone again! What if he comes back? I am so frightened…"  
"It's going to be alright, Christine. Come. I'm not going to let him hurt you any more."

Christine and Mina walked through the halls of the castle.  
"So where exactly are we going?" asked Christine.  
"To get Dracula," said Mina. "With him around, we won't have to worry about Erik."  
"And what if Erik finds us before we find Dracula?"  
"Then he'll have to go through me," said Mina with determination.  
"What makes you think that we'll be safe with Dracula?"  
"Because, he's like the king of all vampires…"  
"You mean to say that you have brought me with you to the home of whom you consider to be the 'King of all Vampires' and all of this time, you never told me!"  
"I'm sorry, Christine, but you wouldn't have come otherwise. Besides, I'm sure that he won't do anything to you. He made me a promise."  
They continued to walk. Christine yawned.  
"You should really be asleep," said Mina. "It's late…"  
"I have told you; I am not going back there."  
At this very moment, Erik came up from behind, grabbed Christine, placed a hand over her mouth, and held her with her head pressed so firmly against his chest, that she could feel his faint heart beat pounding in the back of her skull.  
"Hello, ladies," said Erik.  
"Erik, let her go!" demanded Mina.  
"I'm afraid that I can't do that." He turned to Christine. "As for you, my dear…"  
At this moment, Mina bit Erik's hand causing him to loosen his grasp on Christine, giving Mina the opportunity to pull Christine away from the hands of Erik.  
"Run!" said Mina.  
Christine and Mina ran as fast as they could, followed closely by Erik. They were running so quickly that at one point, Christine lost her footing and fell on the marble floor and cried out. Erik immediately saw this and diving, grabbed Christine's ankle and began to drag her toward him. Mina, however, also noticed, and immediately came to Christine's aid. She slammed her foot down on Erik's hand as hard as she could. When he finally let go, Mina quickly helped Christine to her feet and the two continued running until they got to their room. However, they did not get there fast enough, for Erik burst in right after them. Mina bared her fangs, but Erik simply picked up Christine's brush.  
"Goodnight, Mina!" he said. And he bashed Mina in the head with the brush, knocking her out cold. He turned to the trembling Christine in the corner.  
"What did you do to her?" asked Christine, tearfully.  
"I'm sorry, Christine…" And he took a vile on Mazenderan parfum from his coat pocket and sprayed it in Christine's face. The frightened Christine coughed a bit from the parfum's strong potency, and then fell unconscious into Erik's arms. Erik sighed and starred down at Christine with a sad, yet loving expression.  
"I am so sorry…," he whispered, and he embraced her, pressing her to his heart.


	8. Chapter 8: Dormant

**This chapter is fairly short and is probably about the only thing where Mina's Vampirism comes into play. Oh, and the note is important now :P Honestly, if you choose to skip out on this chapter, I understand completely. Just be sure to glance through the last part with Erik and Christine and the note, okay?**

* * *

Chapter eight: Dormant

Erik sat at Christine's side, gently stroking her cheek as she laid on the bed in the Louis Philippe room, still unconscious from the Mazenderan parfum, which she had been exposed to, at Erik's hand, in Romania. She began to stir and her eyes opened. She had a dazed look upon her face.  
"Wha?… What happened? Erik?"  
"I'm here, Christine," he said. "Don't leave me like that again!…"  
"How long have I been out like this?" she asked him.  
"About two days now…"  
"Where is Mina?"|  
"She's in the living room."  
Christine began to get up, but she began to feel light-headed and fell, Erik catching her.  
"Christine! You shouldn't be trying to move yet. The effects of the parfum haven't fully worn off…"  
"What? The effects of the parfum?" Erik, What have you done to me?"  
Christine starred at Erik with a confused and startled expression. Erik sighed sadly.  
"Christine, I'm sorry… It was the only way that I could bring you back without hurting you…"  
"But you have hurt me, Erik! You have taken away my freedom."  
"Well perhaps you should have thought of that before you removed my mask!"  
Christine sighed.  
"Bickering is getting us nowhere," she said.  
"You are right," Erik agreed, and he helped Christine to her feet.

The two walked into the living room, where Christine caught sight of Mina, lying unconscious on the sofa, and was sent into a panic.  
"Erik! What happened to… Wait… I remember now! It was you! When you hit her on the head with my brush!"  
Erik walked over to Mina and bent down beside her, checking her pulse.  
"No," he said. "She needs blood!"  
"Blood!"  
"If she doesn't get blood soon, she'll go dormant. She needs fresh blood…"  
"Then here," said Christine, holding out her wrists to Erik.  
"Christine, have you gone completely mad!" asked Erik with a look of disbelief.  
"No, Erik! If it is only blood that Mina needs, then I am willing to give it."  
"Christine, listen to me! Go into my room and get the ink well from the table beside the organ."  
"But how will that help?"  
"Just do it!"  
Christine rushed into Erik's room, grabbed his well of red 'ink', and brought it to him.  
"Good," said Erik. "Now I suggest that you hide your eyes…"  
Christine covered her eyes and Erik poured the blood red 'ink' over Mina's lips. Mina licked her lips slowly, then sat up and opened her eyes.  
"Is it safe to look yet?" asked Christine.  
"It's safe," replied Erik.  
Christine opened her eyes to see Mina sitting on the sofa.  
"Mina!"  
"Christine!"  
Christine ran up to Mina and the two hugged.  
"I was so worried…," said Christine.  
At this moment, Erik cleared his throught and Christine and Mina turned toward him.  
"I hate to break up this little reunion, but I would like to speak to Christine for a moment. _In private._"  
Erik glared at Christine. She shrunk a bit and turned to Mina with a worried expression.  
"It's going to be alright," whispered Mina, giving an optimistic smile.

Erik took Christine's hand and led her into his room, closing the door behind them. He brought her to a wooden chair and motioned for her to sit. He then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, which Christine distinctly recognized as the love letter which she had brought with her to Romania.  
"I believe that I have found the source of the problem…"  
"What problem? Erik, what are you talking about?"  
"Don't play all innocent with me! I know your little secret! I know all about your friend…"  
"Erik, I honestly do not have the slightest idea as to what you are talking about…"  
"Then perhaps this will ring a bell to you…" And he began to read from the letter. "To my dearest Christine. My love, it is I, the boy from so long ago on the beach, who rescued your scarf from the sea…"  
Christine put her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the words.  
"Stop it!" she cried.  
"So you'll admit it! You know this young man!"  
"He is only a friend! Nothing more."  
"Friends do not write with such romantic language! 'Tis the language which lovers use! I can finally understand the problem now. It's not your fault! No! It's his! And the only way to solve the problem is to eliminate it completely!…"  
"No!" she said tearfully. "You cannot possibly think that this has anything to do with it! We were just children."  
"And that has grown into something more."  
"No, Erik! Please! Do not hurt him! I promise to stay in your care from now on…"  
"Until when? Until you elope with him!"  
"No, Erik! I could not marry him even if I wanted to! His position in society forbades it!…"  
Not satisfied with her answer, Erik threw her letter into the fire. Christine tried to stop him, but alas, she was too late."  
"No!"  
"And if I should so much as hear of, or in any way find out about any visits or arrangements between the two of you – of any kind – let his and your fate be the same!…"  
Christine knelt by the fire and watched in tears as her lover's letter burned amongst the flames. The letter which she saw as her salvation and her only hope of escape from that underground prison.


	9. Chapter 9: The Masked Ball Part I

**I know what you thought when you first saw this chapter title. You were humming to yourself the tune of Masquerade right? Well, I'm sorry to inform you that you'll just have to be patient. This "part I" chapter is really more of events leading up to the masked ball, so, I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to endure one more chapter before you get to do your little fan dance, okay? FYI, when Christine says "Bois" she is refering to the Bois de Bolougne, a large garden/park in the western suburbs of Paris. Lots of you are probably wondering at this point "where the heck is Raoul in all of this? His letter has been in the picture, but where is he?" (yeah, you better go back and read, all you people who skipped that part because you didn't think it would matter. You know who you are.) Since I am a Christine/Raoul fan myself, I have been wondering the same thing. Anyway, I am glad to inform you that the Vicomte has finally decided to grace us with his presence. However, he has informed me that he will not be signing any autographs at this particular moment in time :P**

* * *

Chapter nine: The Masked Ball Part I

It was about a week later when Christine finally left her melancholy state of mind. She, Mina, and Erik were all in the drawing room of the house on the lake. Erik was playing the piano and singing and Christine stood behind him, singing along. The two sang the final duet from the opera _Roméo et Juliette _by Charles Gounod. Mina sat in a chair, listening to them. Christine's light, florid, angelic soprano quivered at each accent, while Erik's booming tenor took command of each and every note, like a god of music.  
When they finished singing, Mina burst into applause and Christine smiled at Erik, warmly.  
"Bravo!" shouted Mina.  
Erik stood and bowed and Christine gave a curtsy. Mina finished her applauding.  
"Well, you seem a lot happier," said Erik to Christine.  
A blush of rouge formed in Christine's ivory cheeks.  
"Yes, thank you," she said shyly.  
"Well, that it good to know. Listen, there is a masked ball in a couple of days and I was wondering if… well… perhaps the two o you would be interested in attending  
it."  
Christine gasped and hugged Erik. At first, Erik was not quite sure what to think of this, but he soon smiled and hugged Christine back, thinking that it must just be some strange custom of the female mind of the human race.  
"We would love to go," said Mina.  
"Thank you, Erik," said Christine, letting go of him.  
"Mina, could you please excuse us for a moment?" asked Erik.  
"Alright…"  
Mina looked at Christine, who shrugged her shoulders. Figuring that it must not be too important, Mina left the room.  
"Christine, I was wondering…"  
"Yes, Erik?"  
"I've been thinking about what you told me the other night. I remember that you missed 'your freedom' so you said…"  
"Erik, it is fine…"  
"No, it's not! I was just thinking that perhaps you need a bit of time out of the house. You know, just the two of us. What do you say we go up to the surface and have a carriage ride with just you, and me, and a full moon above our heads? Think of it as a sort of 'romantic evening' – a date."  
"You would do that?"  
Erik took Christine's hands in his own and got down on one knee before her.  
"Christine," he said, "why wouldn't I? I have told you that I love you, but I have failed to show you so. I want to show you; that is why I am doing this – because I love you."  
"Oh, Erik…"  
Christine blushed and smiled at Erik warmly. Tears of happiness formed in those sparkling blue eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks. But not a single tear fell as she starred down at the living corpse that knelt before her and she was made to remember that despite this sudden change of heart which he had shown, she still remained his prisoner.  
"Tell me, Christine, where would you like to go? The sky is the limit."  
Christine thought for a moment and an idea entered her mind.  
"Bois," she said with decision.  
"Bois it is then! Let us go!" And he stood and began to drag Christine to the door then and there.  
"Wait!" cried Christine.  
"What's wrong, Christine?"  
"Nothing! It is just that I… I… I need to get my coat!"  
And so Christine rushed off "to get her coat".

Christine went into the Louis Philippe room. She lit the gas lamp of the empty room and looked around. She went over to the wardrobe and put on her fur coat, but stopped at the bedside table on her way back to the door and pulled out a scrap sheet of paper and a pencil. She wrote a quick note on the paper, and then folded it and hid it in her bodice.  
"Are you almost ready?" came Erik's voice.  
"Almost! Just a few more seconds…"  
She put on a quick spray of parfum, and put out the lamp, then left the room.

Christine and Erik sat in the back of a carriage. It was moving at a rather slow pace through the moonlit streets of Bois. It was a cold, late September night and a light snow had fallen. Erik had his arm around Christine, holding her close to him. Christine shivered.  
"It is very cold this evening…," she said.  
"Then perhaps I should help to warm you…"  
He leaned in as if to kiss her. But Christine put her hand between them. Erik looked at her, confused.  
"I am sorry, Erik, but I am just not ready for anything yet. I just do not…"  
"Do not love me?"  
"It is not like that. It is just…"  
"It's alright, Christine. I understand."  
"It is not you at all, Erik. It is just that… well… I am too young!"  
This disappointed Erik. He folded his hands in his lap and scooted a bit away from Christine, putting a few inches of space in between them. The two sat there for a moment in the awkward silence which they had, themselves, created. This tired Erik and he turned his head to look out of the window. Christine saw this and quickly removed the scrap of paper from her bodice and tossed it out of the window on her side of the carriage.  
"Christine?" said Erik, still starring out of his window.  
"Yes, Erik?"  
"There is something that I want you to have… Close your eyes."  
Christine did as he said. Erik reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, gold, jeweled necklace. He fastened it around Christine's neck.  
"Okay, you can look."  
Christine opened her eyes. She held up a bit of the necklace, and looked down at it, examining it in the moonlight.  
"Do you like it?" he asked. "It belonged to my mother."  
"Erik… I cannot accept this! I cannot accept your mother's necklace."  
"Please, Christine, I want you to have it."  
"But why?"  
"When my mother gave me her necklace, she said that it was a symbol of love. She told me that once I found the woman that I loved, the woman that I truly loved, to give it to her. That was the kindest thing that my poor, unhappy mother ever did for me. The only gift, other than my mask which she ever gave to me…"  
Christine closed her tear-filled eyes and turned away sadly, but Erik gently turned her face back toward him. Christine opened her eyes and the two starred eachother in the eyes. It was at that moment that Christine saw that Erik's normally deep eyes glowed a golden yellow colour in the darkness.  
"Please, Christine. For my mother's sake, and because I love you…"  
Christine sat, starring Erik in the eyes, completely speechless. One thought kept poking at her mind: this man had fallen so deeply in love with her that he was willing to do absolutely anything for her – even to commit murder for her – and unbeknownst to him, she had betrayed him. As their carriage pulled away, outside on the empty street, an extremely dashing young man saw Christine's letter and picked it up off of the street. He opened it and read it silently. His hands trembled.  
"Christine…," he whispered.  
It was the Vicomte, Raoul de Chagny.


	10. Chapter 10: The Masked Ball Part II

**Okay, here it is... (In my best old spice guy impersonation voice...)*explosions of confetti rain from the sky as a swarm of masked opera-goers dances around you with fans, singing a song which will now be stuck in your head for 5 days time* (You're welcome) Anyway, now the chapters will begin to get a bit longer. If you are enjoying this story, then this should not be a problem. And if you're not enjoying it well... honestly, I don't understand why you're still reading. :P In this chapter, you will hear a brief conversation between Raoul and Christine about a trip to Parros (Parros-Guiric: a city in the Bretagne/Normadie-ish part of France). Originally, this even occurred between chapters 1 and 2. Mina and Christine were supposed to check out the trap door a weak later; not a day later. At the end of chapter 1, Christine recievec the previously mentioned note from raoul and had invited him to come with her to her father's tomb in Perros. The masked ball is the first time the two are seeing eachother face-to-face, or rather, mask-to-mask, sing that evening in Perros. Hope this helps to clear up a little bit of confusion.**

* * *

Chapter ten: The Masked Ball Part II

_September the twentieth, eighteen-eighty-five_. It was evening, a little before midnight during the masked ball at the Palais Garnier. Mina wore a burgundy red gown that was a bit old-fashion for the time, and a gold mask which covered her eyes, and Christine wore a black domino costume with a black lace mask and a matching cloak. They were near the main entryway of the Palais Garnier and other masqueraders were everywhere. Christine glanced about the crowd, anxiously.  
"Christine, you seem nervous," said Mina. "What's wrong?"  
"Nothing. I was just wondering how the Opéra has been doing. You know… without me…"  
"I wonder where Erik could be. He said that he'd meet us here…"  
They stood a bit longer and a man dressed in a white domino costume captured Christine's attention.  
"Mina, would you excuse me for a moment?"  
Christine walked off, trailing behind the man in the while domino costume. When she finally caught up to him, she tapped the man upon the shoulder and he turned around.  
"Christine?" he said. "Is that you?"  
"Hush!" she whispered. "Follow me…"  
She squeezed the man's hand and nodded to him, acknowledging him to follow her. The pair began to walk through a swirl of colours here and a crowd of overly gay couples there, but were forced to stop for a moment, due to a large crowd forming around one man, who was dressed as Red Death. He wore a hideous death's head mask, a red, conquistador-style suit with gold trim, a large plumed red hat, and a long, crimson-red cape of velvet, which read "touch me not, for I am Red Death stalking abroad!", in large, gold letters on the back. He had a gleaming, sharp sword, and black, leather gloves. He looked around and his eyes rested on Christine. Christine quickly turned away her head, grabbed the white domino's hand, and led him toward a flight of stairs. However, Red Death pushed is way through the crowd and began to follow. Christine glanced back and caught sight of this red ghost, and immediately quickened her pace. The black domino and the white domino went up the staircase as Red Death seemingly vanished into the crowd behind them.  
Meanwhile, Christine had led the man into one of the boxes and closed the door behind them. The man removed his mask to reveal his face. It was Raoul.  
"Christine, what's going on?" he asked.  
"Not so loud, Raoul! Someone may hear. We must remain hidden in the back of the box…"  
"I got your message. Are you alright?"  
Ignoring him, Christine peered out the door.  
"He must have gone up higher," she sighed. And she closed the door again.  
"What do you mean 'he'?… I understand now! He! This time, he will not escape!"  
"Raoul, what are you talking about? Who will not escape?"  
"You know perfectly well as to who, Christine! The evil genius from the churchyard at Perros! The man who hides behind that hideous mask of death! Red Death! In a word, Mademoiselle, your 'Angel of Music'! But I shall snatch off his mask as I do my own and we shall look eachother in the eyes and in the face with no mask and no lies between us. Then I shall know whom you love and who loves you."  
"In the name of _our _love, Raoul, you shall not pass!"  
"You lie to me, Mademoiselle, for you don't love me and you never have. I have been quite a poor, silly fellow to allow you to mock and flout me as you have. Why did you give me the feeling of honest hope at Perros? Why did you leave that note for me in Bois to meet you here? I am an honest man, Christine, and I thought you to be an honest woman; yet all you intended to do was deceive me. Alas, Christine, you have deceived us all! Angel of Music indeed! You claim to love me, and yet you go about the ball with Red Death! Despicable, Miss two-timer! I don't know why I ever bothered to rescue your scarf so many years age…"  
His words have cut straight through to Christine's heart. She stood there, fighting back tears.  
You will beg my pardon one day for all of those nasty words, Raoul, and I shall forgive you."  
"No, Christine! You've driven me mad! How could I have ever loved an opera wench like you?"  
"Raoul, how can you talk like that?…"  
"I shall die of shame!"  
"Live… and… goodbye, Raoul…"  
"Oh," he said sarcastically, "but you must allow me to come and applaud you every once-in-a-while."  
"I shall never sing again…"  
"Oh, so he's taking you off stage is he? Well, I congratulate you. But we shall meet again in Bois some evening."  
"Not in Bois, nor anywhere. You shall never see me again, Raoul."  
"Oh, mysterious lady, to what darkness are you returning? For what Hell, or for what Heaven?"  
"I came to tell you, but you would not believe me now. You have lost faith in me, Raoul. It is finished!"  
"Can't you atleast tell me what all of this means? You're free. There's no one to interfere with you. You go about Paris. You go to the masked ball. Why don't you just go home? What have you been doing for the past fortnight? What is this tale of the Angel of Music which you have told to your dear, old, Mamma Valerius? Someone may have taken you in, Christine. Played upon your innocence! I witnessed it myself at Perros. You know perfectly well what to believe now, Christine. You're quite sensible; or atleast you seem to be. You know what you're doing, and yet Mamma Valerius waits for you at home; appealing to your 'good genius'. Explain yourself, Christine. Anyone might have been deceived as I was."  
At this point, Christine finally removed her mask to reveal a sorrow-stricken face that was as pale as a ghost and dark shadows circled her eyes.  
"My dear," she said, "it is a tragedy…"  
Raoul could not help but to begin to pity her. "I'm sorry, Christine. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. Honestly, I didn't. You know that I would never intentionally hurt you… You promised to forgive me…"  
Christine remasked herself.  
"Perhaps some day…," she murmured in a melancholy tone.  
Raoul took Christine's hands and drew her to him as she turned to leave. He looked her in the eyes, gently.  
"Please, Christine, I want to make it up to you…"  
Christine looked down, sadly.  
"No, Raoul. You have hurt me enough as it is. It is finished…"  
She left the room without so mush as a glance back at Raoul, or even a simple "goodbye". Raoul lent against the wall and clutched at his young heart. He had always been in love with Christine, ever since they were children. That was why he had sent her that letter after her triumphant gala. A letter reminiscing on those days in their childhood when they would play together on the beach. Perhaps he was wrong to think that she would remember and smile. Perhaps it was all in the past to her. After all, so much had changed since those days. Or had it? He had, after all, been a bit harsh on Christine. If he wished to succeed in courting her, Raoul realized that he would first have to succeed in wooing her. But he had competition. Oh, he hated that! But then again, he thought to himself, he was a handsome fellow of rank and stature with riches and a tittle, how hard could it be to win the affections of such an ingénue as Christine? He sighed and finally, left the box.

Christine sat on the steps of the grand staircase. How could she have been so foolish? Raoul was her only chance at freedom from Erik. That sweet Raoul whom she remembered so fondly from her childhood and from when her father was alive. That adoring Raoul, who so lovingly used to call her "Little Lotte" and who had pressed a kiss to her trembling lips as they were parted by the roadside for what she thought would be the last time that she would ever see him. That oh-so-handsome, brave, strong, noble, splendid Raoul, who had the finest eyes which Christine had seen in her entire life and… Oh, stop it, Christine! Who was she trying to fool? She knew that though she longed for her Raoul more than anything else in the world, it was an impossible wish. Raoul was a viscount and from one of the wealthiest, oldest, most distinguished and dignified families in all of France. He would surely never even consider the possibility of marrying an opera singer and poverty-stricken orphan girl from Sweden like her. It was hopeless! And besides that, what would Erik do to him if he ever found out exactly how she felt for her beloved Raoul? She did not want to see her only childhood friend be tortured and killed then tossed aside like the rotting carcass of some dead animal. It was a battle which she knew she could never win. For either way she chose, she would only wind up miserable in the end.  
Mina was walking in front of the grand staircase and spotted Christine. She went up to her with a piece of cake in her hand. It was obvious though, that Christine did not see her, for she was still greatly upset by what had happened earlier on that evening between her and Raoul.  
"Hello, Christine," said Mina.  
"Oh… Hello, Mina…"  
"You should try some of the food. It's delicious!"  
"I am not hungry, Mina…"  
"Are you sure? They've got cake…"  
Mina shoved the piece of cake in Christine's face, but Christine just pushed it aside and gave a sad, plaintive sigh. Suddenly, Mina became concerned and sat down on the steps beside Christine, eating her cake.  
"Hey," said Mina. "What's wrong?"  
"It is Raoul…"  
"Who's Raoul?"  
"That old friend that I told you about…"  
"The white domino?"  
Christine nodded.  
"What happened?"  
"We got into an argument and… well… I would rather not to talk about it…"  
"Oh… I see…"  
"You will not tell Erik, will you?"  
"Of course not…"  
A richly dressed man came up to them and tapped Mina on the shoulder. Mina turned to face him.  
"I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle, " he said, "but may I have the honor of having this dance?"  
Unsure of how to answer him, Mina turned to Christine. Christine smiled.  
"Go ahead," she said. "Do not allow my sorrows to get in the way of you having a good time."  
Mina turned back to the man.  
"Why of course you may, kind sir."

Mina and the man went to the center of the ballroom floor and began to waltz.  
"You look very lovely this evening," said the man.  
"Thank you. You look rather handsome yourself."  
"May I ask your name?"  
"Willhamina Harker. But you may call me Mina."  
"Mina… Mina… I like it. I am Comte Philippe de Chagny. It is so good to be able to get out every once-in-a-while and meet new faces, don't you think so?"  
"Oh, yes."  
"So, Mina, I hope that you do not mind me asking, but what is your age?"  
"I am seventeen years of age, though I shall be eighteen very soon. On the thirty-first of October, infact.  
Mina and Philippe continued dancing. Off to the side of the ballroom floor, two women, Cécile Jammes and La Sorelli, were talking amongst themselves. They were both members of the corps de ballet. Infact, Sorelli was the prima ballerina and Cécile's mother, Madame Jammes, had been a splendid dancer in her prime as well. It was Cécile who first caught sight of Philippe and Mina dancing.  
"Hey, Sorelli," said Cécile, pointing into the ballroom, "isn't that Philippe dancing over there?"  
"Oh, stop it, Cécile," said Sorelli. "Don't think that I'm about to fall for that old trick"  
"But this time, I really do see him! Look for yourself."  
Sorelli gave a reluctant sigh, but looked over and saw Philippe dancing with Mina. She immediately dropped her jaw and got red in the face. Her piercing hazel eyes shot flames.  
"I must be imagining things, because I know that he daren't dance with another woman…"  
Cécile shrugged her lily-white shoulders.  
"I personally suggest that you go rescue your man before he begins flirting with anyone else…"  
And so, Sorelli stormed off toward Philippe and Mina. She tapped Philippe on the shoulder and Philippe immediately stopped dancing and turned to face Sorelli.  
"Oh, hello there, Sorelli," he said.  
"What do you think you're doing!"  
"Forgive me. Sorelli, Mina. Mina, Sorelli."  
"Don't give me that," she snorted. "How dare you dance with another woman!"  
At this point, Sorelli dragged Philippe away. As she was doing so, however, Philippe looked back at Mina and smiled. Finding herself with nothing better to do at the moment, Mina went off to find Christine once more. Christine was still seated on the steps of the grand staircase.  
"Christine," said the ecstatic Mina, "you'll never guess who that man was! It was the Comte de Chagny!"  
"I know… He is Raoul's older brother…"  
"Oh… Sorry about that."  
"It is alright. It is not your fault, really. I am just having a bit of trouble getting him off of my mind is all…"  
"Having trouble getting who off of your mind?" came Erik's voice.  
Christine turned around to find Red Death starring down at her. Her face immediately lit up and she gave an enormous smile.  
"Why, you, of course!" she said.  
"Oh really?" said Erik, doubtfully.  
"Yes. It was so sweet of you to take me out of the house the other evening. I believe that I have forgotten to say thank you."  
"Oh! Well, you are welcome then."  
Christine stood, facing Erik as Red Death.  
"Where have you been? We were looking for you."  
"I've been around…"  
At this moment, a petite, curly, red-haired woman with abnormally large breasts purposely shoved into Christine as she was walking by, nearly knocking Christine over.  
"Watch where you're going, you clumsy little oaf!" said the woman, turning up her nose snootily and walking away. Christine just rolled her eyes and Erik placed a hand on his hip.  
"I really hate that woman," he said. "Are you alright, Christine?"  
"I shall be fine, Erik. Do not get too worked up over it. She is not worth it…"  
"What was that all about?" asked Mina.  
"_That_ is La Carlotta," answered Christine. "It is nothing to be concerned about though. She just has not yet gotten over the fact that her understudy gave a better performance than she could ever hope to give…"

Later on that evening, Christine and Mina stood at the refreshments table while Erik stood at a distance, watching them. Mina was sure to sample every dish, while Christine just stood there, watching her.  
"Christine, you really should eat something," said Mina.  
"I have told you, Mina, I am not hungry!"  
"Are you feeling alright?"  
"No!"  
"Then what's wrong?"  
Christine hesitated. She glanced across the room at Erik, and then turned back to Mina.  
"I have already told you…," Christine whispered.  
"You'll get over it, Christine…"  
A tall man dressed in a phoenix costume came up and tapped Christine upon the shoulder. Christine turned around.  
"Can I help you, Monsieur?" she asked him.  
"Yes, infact. I couldn't help but to overhear your conversation and your friend is right, you know. You shouldn't starve yourself simply because you're upset about something. Why, if you get any scrawnier, you'll be nothing but a twig!"  
"And I tell you, Monsieur," Christine rebuffed, "that my appetite is of no concern to you! I am not starving myself; I am simply not hungry! What is wrong with that?"  
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I was just offering my advice. I apologize if I offended you, Mademoiselle… Mademoiselle…"  
"Christine," she replied.  
"Well, I must say that you look absolutely stunning this evening, Mademoiselle Christine."  
"Umm… Thank you?…"  
"I hope that you won't find it rude it I ask, but would you care to dance?"  
"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I do not much feel like dancing either…"  
"What is your age?"  
"I am not sure that I should tell you that. After all, I do not know you very…"  
"Anyway," e said, cutting her off, "I have something here that I'm sure will spark your appetite…"  
Erik, who had been watching and listening to the entire conversation, did not like the way that this man was talking to Christine and decided that it was time to intervene. He walked over and but his arm around Christine.  
"Christine, darling, now what have I told you about talking to strangers?" he said.  
"But…," began the confused Christine.  
"Just play along," whispered Erik.  
"But Father, I am not a little child any more…"  
"Don't speak to me that way, you ungrateful child! You are still young and will therefore abide by my rules. It's for your own safety!"  
"I am sorry, Father…"  
"I know that you are sorry, but you need to be more careful! Men like this are always looking for pretty young ladies to put their hands all over!"  
"I will be more careful, Father…"  
"I know you will, sweet pea…" And he led Christine away, Mina tagging along behind them.

After that, Christine, Erik, and Mina came upon Christine's dressing room. Erik immediately shoved Christine into the room, motioned for Mina to get in quickly, then closed the door behind them and locked it.  
"What was all of that about!" asked the slightly annoyed Christine.  
"I don't want you anywhere near that man, Christine. He's very dangerous."  
"What's so dangerous about him?" asked Mina. "He was really annoying, but he didn't seem threatening…"  
"It's Howell," he said, gloomily.  
"Howell! Here!" exclaimed Mina. "I thought he was…"  
"Excuse me," interrupted Christine, "but who is this Howell which you speak of and why is he so dangerous?"  
"Well," began Erik, "the legend goes that Howell is a very powerful sorcerer. He can take on the form and appearance of any man that ever lived. He uses his abilities to lure beautiful young maidens… his victims. He then seduces the woman, transforms back into himself, murders the woman, cuts open their bare chest and then rips out their heart and uses it to feed his power…"  
This, of course, terrified Christine, who fainted, Erik quickly catching her.  
"Christine!"  
"She's out," said Mina.  
"Great," he said sarcastically, "Now I have the pleasure of carrying her five stores down, through a series of underground passages and tunnels without the aid of the horse…"  
"That's what you get for scarring her like that…"  
"It's not my fault! She asked…"  
"Well, that doesn't mean that you had to go and tell her all of the detailed. You've got to admit that ot was a bit gory…"  
Erik heaved a sigh and lifted Christine.  
"I'm getting too old for this…"  
Then Erik, still carrying Christine, went to the mirror and pushed it in one particular point and the glass slid aside. Erik and Mina stepped through the opening and the mysterious, sliding, two-way mirror closed silently behind them and the lights in the dressing room immediately vanished.


	11. Chapter 11: Curiosity and the Diva

**Yes, I am aware, Christine is an absolute idiot in this chapter... Word to the wise: if a room is labeled "Torture Chamber", what this really translates to in plain English is "Stay out!" If you would like a translation of the French, please PM me.**

* * *

Chapter eleven: Curiosity and the Diva

Erik sat on the bed in the Louis Philippe room with the still faint Christine. He stared down at her. His hand moved along her face gently and he removed her mask. He looked marveling at those exquisite and adorable features and he thought to himself about perhaps, someday very soon, they would all belong to him in the form of his charming little wife. He could already picture it. Oh, it would be a grand wedding; one which would take place in the Madeline Chapelle. He would stand at the altar, waiting as Christine was led down the isle, clothed in the purest of white silk and lace, with a long, trailing veil that hid her fair face, and a bouquet of red and white roses all with the freshest and sweetest fragrance, eyes shimmering as she walked toward him. They would stand in front of the altar with the priest, and when he asked him if he would have Christine Daaé to be his lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, till death do they part, he would look Christine in the eyes and say, "I do", smiling because he knew that not even the power of death itself would be able to part them, and they would live together for eternity. And then, they would kiss. It would be a long, passionate kiss and would be the happiest moment of his life. And they would leave this underground Hell of a house and live in a nice little, quiet, ordinary flat in the center of town. And he would toss aside that black coffin that he slept in and sleep in a real bed, with sheets and blankets, and pillows, and with his beautiful wife at his side every night. And they would start a family together and he would listen to the pitter-patter of little feet running through the house. He would keep her amused at home on weekdays, and then take her out on Sundays. And then the two of them would sit and sing together until they swooned away with delight. He saw all of this and so much more when he gazed down at his little Christine, yet so lovely even in her unconscious state. His fantasizing was interrupted however, as Mina entered the room, carrying with her a glass of water.  
"Is she going to be alright?" asked Mina.  
"She's fine," said Erik. "Now hand me the water…"  
Mina handed Erik the glass of water and Erik poured it over the face of Christine. Christine gasped and her eyes flew open. She was breathing hard and Erik pressed her to his heart, trying to calm her.  
"Erik?" she trembled.  
"Don't do that any more!" he moaned.  
"I am sorry, Erik! You know that I begin to feel faint when I am nervous or frightened…"  
Erik let go of Christine.  
"Well then," he said, "perhaps you should stop worrying all o the time!"  
"Well, perhaps if you would stop frightening me, I would not worry so much!"  
"Well, perhaps…"  
"Alright, you two!" said Mina, cutting Erik off. "That's enough! You know, you two would make a perfect couple…"  
Christine's face got red. She stood, glaring at Erik.  
"Well, I think not!" she said. "Good night!"  
"Christine…," moaned Erik.  
"What!" she said bitterly.  
"Look, I'm sorry if I scared you, but I was doing it for your own protection…"  
"Oh, so telling me frightening stories about men who go around and…"  
"It's just a legend, Christine," he said, cutting her off. "I'm sure that it's not true…"  
"Well then, why are you being so over protective?"  
"Because I don't want to lose you," he said, standing and taking her hands in his own. "All I ask of you is that you keep on your guard and have a trusted male acting as a guardian with you at all times."  
"What!"  
"Even if that means that you have to stay with that friend of yours. Do you understand me?"  
"No, Erik! You cannot possibly expect me to constantly…"  
"Christine," he bellowed, firmly cutting her off, "I have had enough cheek out of you! Any more and you may find yours very sore! Now go to bed this instant and I don't want to hear another peep out of you for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?  
Christine was going to remark upon this, but she stopped herself. She had never seen Erik so serious about something before. He genuinely seemed concerned about her safety. She had never had someone care that much about her since her father had… She again stopped herself. Those memories were in the past; all but forgotten. There was no point in tearing open old wounds, no matter how deep they may be. The fact was that her father was dead. Nothing, no one could change that. Christine sighed.  
"Yes, Erik…," she said finally, and sadly, she crawled into her bed.  
Erik and Mina walked out of the room, but after a few seconds, Christine laid down her head and closed her eyes to go to sleep. About two minutes later, Erik entered, and seeing Christine asleep, put out the light in the room.  
"Goodnight, Christine," he whispered softly, and once again, he left the room.

It was the middle of the night, about three thirty in the morning. Mina was sitting in a chair in the Louis Philippe room and reading, and Erik had fallen asleep on the sofa. Christine still lay in the bed, soundly asleep, until she began tossing and turning. Suddenly, she gave a shrill, blood-curdling scream. Erik jolted awake and rushed to Christine's side, and Mina, dropping her book, did likewise. Erik began to shake the flailing Christine.  
"Christine!" he exclaimed. "Christine, wake up!"  
Christine's eyes fluttered open. She was breathing hard and a cold sweat was pouring from her temples. She trembled.  
"What happened?" asked Erik. "Are you alright?"  
"I… I suppose that I just had a nightmare…"  
"That's it?" said Mina, slightly annoyed. "All that over a bad dream?"  
Erik groaned. "Please, Christine, try not to scream any more. It was just a dream…"  
"But it seemed so real…"  
"Christine, we're all tired," he said. "Now go back to sleep."  
Mina picked up her book and left the room as Erik went back to the sofa. Christine saw beside him a little, black, leather, drawstring bag.  
"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the bag.  
"This? I call it the little bag of life and death."  
"That is a strange name. What is inside of this 'bag of life and death'?"  
"Oh, nothing much. Just a couple of keys…"  
"May I see?"  
"No! What you may do, however, is to go back to bed and just let me get some rest! Good night!"  
Erik collapsed on the sofa and Christine, though a bit disappointed in Erik's lack of fully answering her question, laid her head back own on the pillow and went to sleep.

The next morning, around seven o'clock, Erik woke up. He yawned, stretched, and then checked his watch for the time. When he found that it was infact seven o'clock in the morning, he got up and went over to the bed where Christine was sleeping, and gently shook her awake.  
"Christine… Christine, darling, I need you to get up…"  
Christine yawned, opened her eyes, and then sat up.  
"What is it?" she asked, yawning.  
"I need you to start waking up on a schedule again."  
"Ten more minutes…"  
Christine put her head back down, but Erik pulled away the blankets and sheets. Christine reached out, feeling for the covers, but found Erik's hand instead. She sat up again and looked at Erik sleepily.  
"Christine, I can't let you keep sleeping in like this if you are ever going back to your home and to your normal life…"  
Christine heaved a sigh and Erik took her hand and helped her to her feet.  
"No more nightmares?"  
"No…"  
"Well, that's good, because we're going to be very busy today."  
"Busy? But why? Erik, what are we doing?"  
"Well, I have several letters that I need to finish writing and to mail, I have to go pay a visit to my banker later on today, I have to go to the market to buy some more food as well as a few other things that we've been needing around the house, and we need to start preparing for your next performance. Oh! And we also need to take your gown to be mended. You know, the yellow one…"  
Christine looked at Erik, confused.  
"Next performance? When is that?"  
"Oh, in a couple of weeks or so…"  
"But Erik, I have not been there in such a long time…"  
"Then I suggest that we begin rehearsing. Now get changed. By the time you're finished, I shall have breakfast prepared and sitting on the table. After you are done eating, meet me in the drawing room and we will warm up and begin preparing you to sing as Marguerite in Faust."  
"But Erik, I will most likely be singing as Siebel. La Carlotta is as healthy as a horse."  
"You just worry about perfecting your acting and vocal technique. Leave the rest to me…"

By eight o'clock, Christine and Erik were in the drawing room of the house on the lake. Erik was seated at the piano and Christine was standing not far behind. The little bag of life and death sat on top of the piano. After a couple of minutes of lip trills, yawned sighs, and scales and arpeggios, Erik began to play the introduction to the _King of Thulé _from _Faust_. Christine sang.

_Je voudrais bien savoir quel était ce jeune homme;  
__Si c'est un grand segneur et comment il se nomme?  
__Il était un Roi de Thulé,  
__Qui, jusqu'a la tombre fidèle,  
__Eut, en souvenir de sa belle, Une coupe en or ciselé.  
__Il avait bonne grâce, à ce qu'il m'a semblé.  
__Nul trésor n'avait tant de charmes!  
__Dans les grands jours il s'en servait,  
__Et chaque fois qu'il y buvait,  
__Ses yeux se remplissaient de larmes!  
__Quand il sentit venir la mort,  
__Étendu sur sa froide couche,  
__Pour la porter jusqu'a sa bouche,  
__Sa main fit un suprême effort!  
__Je ne savais que dire,  
__Et j'ai rougi d'abord.  
__Et puis, en l'honneur de sa dame,  
__Il but une derniére fois.  
__La coupe trembla dans ses doigts,  
__Et doucement il rendit l'âme!_

It was not long before they came upon the Jewel Song and Christine sang:

_Ah! Je ris de me voir  
__Si belle en ce miroir…  
__Est-ce toi, Marguerite?  
__Est-ce toi? Réponds-moi, réponds vite!  
__Non! Ce n'est plus toi!…  
__Ce n'est plus ton visage;  
__C'est la fille d'un roi!  
__Qu'on salue au passage!  
__Ah s'il était ici!  
__S'il me voyait ainsi!  
__Comme une demoiselle  
__Il me trouverait belle!  
__Achevons la métamorphose.  
__Il me tard encore d'essayer  
__Le bracelet et le collier!  
__Dieu! C'est comme une main qui sur mon bros se pose!  
__Marguerite, Ce n'est plus toi!  
__Ce n'est plus ton visage!  
__Non! C'est la fille d'un roi,  
__Qu'on salue au passage!_

"A good fist run through," said Erik, "but you need to give it some oomph! Don't just act like Marguerite finding a casket of jewels and marveling at herself in the mirror; be Marguerite finding a casket of jewels and marveling at herself in the mirror. Also, on the _King of Thulé_, be sure to act more like you're trailing off with the interruptions of the ballad. Again, from the beginning!"  
Erik began to once more play the introduction to the _King of Thulé_. Christine however, caught sight of the bag of life and death.  
"Erik…"  
Erik abruptly stopped playing the piano.  
"What is it?"  
"What is in the little bag?"  
"I already told you. Just a couple of keys." And he began to plat the introduction again.  
"Erik…"  
He stopped.  
"What is it now?"  
"What do the keys do?"  
"Open locked doors."  
One last time, Erik attempted to play the introduction until he heard the sound of Christine's voice.  
"Erik…"  
"That's it, you inquisitive little thing!" shouted Erik, now very agitated. "Obviously, you are not able to rehearse without being overly distracted at this moment in time, so until you can do so, I will be waiting, in my room, attending to matters which may be taken more seriously! Perhaps the little diva's curiosity will have settled down enough by lunchtime that we may finish a decent rehearsal. That is, unless she does not wish to ever become more than just an underpaid, no name soubrette, who will never be able to hold a leading role in any major opera production in any house which is even worth mentioning the name of. I'm sick and tired of your little "prima donna" act and if you ever want to e able to survive a career in _my _opera house, you will not be so easily distracted from by rehearsals by things bearing so little importance!"  
"Erik, wait!"  
She tried to stop him, but Erik stormed off in a huff. She stood in shock, staring at the door that he had just slammed, and then glanced back over at the little bag of life and death.  
"I wonder…"  
Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Christine picked up the little bag of life and death and left the room.

Christine entered the Louis Philippe room with the bag of life and death in hand. She took out one of the little keys and stared at it, lying there in her hand. Then, she walked toward a door in the Louis Philippe room. A door which had always been locked, which Erik had never opened before her, and a door which he had told her that she was never to go through, for it was, he had told her, the most dangerous of all of the doors in the house.  
"I know that Erik says that I am never to go through this door," she said to herself, "but why does he say so? After all, it is only a door. How can a mere door be dangerous? 'The Torture Chamber' he had called it. Why would a room be called by a name like that?… Nevertheless, it can do no harm to simply take a quick look around…"  
Christine slid the key into the keyhole in the door, turned it, and to her surprise, the door opened before her. Through the door, was a dark room. Leaving the key in the door, she slowly stepped inside. At this point, Mina entered the room and watched Christine step inside. Christine had gotten all but a few feet into the room when suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her.  
"Christine!" exclaimed Mina.  
Christine trembled.  
"Mina, what is going on? The door seems to have vanished! And it is so dark…"  
"Don't worry, Christine. I'll go get Erik."  
Please hurry…," cried the terrified Christine.

It was a few seconds before Mina was banging on the door of Erik's room.  
"Erik! Erik! Open up, Erik!"  
Erik opened the door.  
"What do you want? I thought I had told you never to disturb me in my room!…"  
"Please, Erik, it's Christine…"  
"I'm not sure, but you have to help her…"

When Erik and Mina entered the Louis Philippe room, Christine was sitting in the torture chamber, leaned against where the door should have been, but wasn't. She pressed her hand to the wall and found that it was both smooth and cold, like a sheet of glass. Just on the other side of the wall, Erik had found the little bag of life and death, which Christine had dropped outside of the door of the torture chamber just before entering. Erik picked up the bag and took the key from the door.  
"She got stuck in that room," said Mina.  
Hearing this, Erik once again stuck the key in the door, but instead of opening it, he turned the key and took it out again, locking it instead.  
"What! What are you doing!" exclaimed Mina.  
"She needs to be taught a lesson," replied Erik, "even if that means learning the hard way…"  
"I can't believe you! You're a monster; so cruel that you would lock up the woman you love in a torture chamber!"  
"I am not a monster! And I do love Christine…"  
And with saying this, Erik flipped a switch on the wall and the torture chamber was filled with a blinding light which came from all directions and seemed to be reflected many times by the walls of the room. Christine was very much taken by surprise and tried to shield her eyes from the dazzling light.  
"Mina?" she called. "What is going on? Erik? Someone, please help me!"  
Christine began to cry.  
"Erik, what have you done!"  
"I have turned on the torture chamber," he said, plainly.  
"But you'll kill her!"  
"No, I'll make sure that doesn't happen. She's just staying in there long enough to learn a thing or two about obeying my orders…"  
"You cold-blooded murderer!" she hissed through her teeth, rushing at Erik, but he caught her fist and held her by the wrists.  
"And if you so much as dare to interfere with her tortures, then please do remember that I do know the few ways of killing a vampire and am more than able to do so."  
Saying this, he let go of her and left.

When Christine's eyes finally became accustomed to the light, she found herself in what appeared to be a forest. She put her hand against the wall, but it had become very hot and she swiftly drew it away again. The blazing sun beat down upon her face. She stood and looked around. She was completely surrounded by nothing but trees and branches.  
"Where am I?" she said to herself.  
She took a few steps forward, but heard a sound like that of a lion's roar. She stopped dead in her tracks and trembled. "Erik?" she called, timidly. "Erik, is that you?" There was no reply. "Erik, this is not funny if you are trying to frighten me… Erik?…"  
There came another terrifying roar.  
"Is there not anyone who will help me out of this forest?"

She sat and waited for what seemed like hours. Night had fallen in her little forest prison. She had become very thirsty from the sun beating down upon her all day long. Her skin was burnt pink and her body ached all over. It was very hot and her head hurt whenever she moved it. Would no one come to rescue her? No! Surely Erik would become worried and begin searching for her. She had never in her life wanted so much to look upon Erik's hideously distorted face. Never before had it held so much comfort. She made one last effort to call to Erik. She stood, but her head ached so much that she began to feel dizzy and as she tried to take a step forward, collapsed to the ground. She tried to speak, but her throat was so dry that it hurt her. Every breath of scorching, stuffy air burned in her lungs. She began to cry.  
"Erik…," she whispered.  
She lay there completely still. She had all but given up hope of rescue. Oh, why had she not listened to Erik and just left the little key and the bag alone? Why had she let her curiosity get the best of her? Why had she been such a nuisance to Erik earlier in the day? Why couldn't she have just been satisfied with a life like any other woman's as some man's little wife who did all that he asked of her, hoping only to please him? She should have said yes. She should have married Erik when he had asked her in the beginning. What did it matter that she had been in love, especially when she knew that there was absolutely no chance of ever being loved in return? Oh, she had been so foolish! Raoul was nothing but a snobbish, rich, conceited fop! He wanted absolutely nothing to do with her – he had made that apparent when he had called her an opera wench to her face and had told her that he would die of shame for loving her. Atleast Erik loved her, and was not ashamed to say so. But not even Erik would help her now. No, it had become apparent that she was to die in that forest, and she closed her eyes, waiting for death to take her to join her father.

About an hour later, Erik entered the Louis Philippe room. He was carrying with him a damp cloth and a steaming cup of tea. Mina stood from her spot seated in front of the torture chamber door.  
"Alright then," said Erik. "I think that she's learned her lesson by now."  
He set down the cup and the cloth on the chest of drawers, and picked up a piece of paper that had been written on in Christine's hand, which had caught his eye, folded it, and stuck it in his pocket. He then flipped the switch which had turned on the torture chamber. When he opened the door of the torture chamber, his heart sank. He saw his beloved Christine lying in the middle of the room, completely motionless and unconscious. Had he really killed her? He rushed to her side, but as he reached out toward her, he hesitated. What if he _had _killed her? Why had he been so cruel to her when they were rehearsing that morning? After all, she had done no harm by asking him a simple question. It was just the natural curiosity of a woman shining through. If he hadn't become so angry with her, she would have never taken the bag and become trapped within the torture chamber. Had he been more forgiving, he could have rescued her when she had first become trapped. He stared down at her limp, scorched body on the floor. _He _had done this to her. _He _was the one responsible for causing her so much pain. His hand trembled as he reached out and placed it on her neck to check her pulse. One thing though comforted him, and that was feeling her faint pulse and the warmth of her body on his bony fingers. Erik heaved a sigh of relief. Carefully, he turned her so that she was lying on her back and lifted her in his sturdy arms. He then carried her out into the Louis Philippe room and laid her gently on the bed.  
"You've killed her!" shrieked Mina.  
"No," murmured Erik. "I have not…"  
Erik picked up the cloth from the chest of drawers and began to gently sponge Christine's face. Christine groaned and opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred though, and she did not recognize Erik, trembling at the sight of him.  
"Who are you?" she stuttered.  
"Christine, it is I, Erik."  
"What happened to me?"  
"You don't remember?"  
Christine shook her head. Erik knew that she was very dehydrated and realized that such a long time exposed to the conditions of the torture chamber, even under a mild dose, must have been affecting her memory and that she had absolutely no recollection of the event.  
"You fainted," he said finally, giving a warning glance to Mina not to tell Christine of the incident. He took the cup of tea from where he had set it. "Here. Drink this. It will help you to feel better…"  
He tried to hand Christine the cup, but she refused him. At this, Erik became very concerned. He knew that she was very weak and that if she did not get any fluids into her body soon, there was a good chance that she would not survive the night.  
"Mina, would you hold this for me?" he asked, handing Mina the cup. He stared down at Christine. By now, her eyes had come to focus and the look that he gave her frightened her.  
"Erik?… Erik, what are you doing? Christine stammered.  
Without a single word, Erik restrained her from all possible movements and held Christine's nose. He then took the cup from Mina and when Christine opened her mouth to gasp for air, he poured the tea down her throught and let go of her. She coughed and sputtered, as Erik set the cup back down on the marble top of the Louis Philippe chest of drawers.  
"Are you alright?" he asked her.  
"What was that for! Erik, I am perfectly capable of…"  
"_Are you alright?_"  
"What?…"  
"Christine, are you alright?"  
Christine looked at him, slightly confused.  
"Yes…," she said finally.  
"Good; that's all that I'm concerned about fight now…"  
They sat there, looking at eachother for a moment. After about a minute, Erik got up and left the Louis Philippe room.

Erik entered his bedroom and pulled out the note which he had taken from Christine's bedroom. He unfolded it and was shocked to see what he found inside,

_Dear Erik,  
__I am sorry, but I feel that I can no  
__Longer remain here with you in this  
__House and in this world. I have lost  
__All joy in life and I hope that you will  
__Understand my decision to go and to  
__Rest with my father in eternity.  
__~Your dear little Christine_

It was a suicide note.


	12. Chapter 12: The Good Side of Erik

**Hello there. I hope you've been able to tollerate me spelling so far. It gets better. I promise. We get to see more of Raoul again, and he'll be in the picture a lot more frequently now. I hope that you continue to enjoy :)**

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Chapter twelve: The Good Side of Erik

After the incident with the torture chamber and finding Christine's not, Erik constantly sought after any opportunity to entreat his little Christine in an attempt to relieve himself from the guilt of having nearly killed the woman he loved. They went on rides through town together and walks by the lakeshore. He bought her little trinkets and took her out to dinner in some of the finest restaurants in Paris. He had allowed Mina to leave at her own will, but she often cam back from time to time to visit Christine. This behavior slightly baffled Christine, for she had never seen this softer side of Erik before, but she never once asked him about any of in, for fear that his newly found kindness would suddenly vanish. One day, while Erik and Christine were walking along the shore of the underground lake, Erik turned to Christine.  
"Christine," he said.  
"Yes, Erik?"  
"I was just wondering… are you happy here?"  
Christine stopped and thought. Erik had kept her there for such a long time that the thought had never occurred to her as to whether or not she was happy there with him. She just stared at Erik.  
"It is not that I am not happy, Erik," Christine began. "I suppose that I am happy… but I miss my home. I miss being able to move about freely, to sleep in my own bedroom in my own home. I miss seeing my Mamma Valerius. I miss being onstage, and being able to go to church and light a candle for my father… I am sorry if I am tiring you, Erik…"  
"No, no, not at all. I understand that you must be lonely here with me. But you must understand that things in your life are bound to change. Your baroness will eventually die, and if you ever marry then you must understand that your husband may not allow you to perform onstage any more and that you will live in a different home and you will probably no longer have a bed or room of your own. And you must learn to let go of your father. I know that he must have been very important to you, but he's dead now. He's in a better place and I'm sure that he doesn't want to look down from Heaven and see his only child all glum. You need to move on…" He looked over and noticed that Christine had begun to cry. "Don't cry… I'm sorry about what I said about your father…"  
"No… You are right," she sighed.  
"Christine…"  
At this, Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain gold ring. He took Christine's little hand and knelt down before her on one knee.  
"Christine, don't cry any more… Do you really want to go back to your old life?"  
Christine nodded. "I do. More than anything."  
"Then here," he said, slipping the ring onto her finger. "I give you back your liberty, Christine, on condition that this ring is always on your finger. As long as you keep it, you will be protected from all danger and Erik will remain your friend. But woe to you if you ever part with it, for Erik will have his revenge… Oh, Christine, Christine… Please promise me that you will come back from time to time to visit your poor, unhappy Erik. And that I will always remain, in your eyes, as your Angel of Music…"  
"I promise, Erik. But how am I to return, for I do not know the way…"  
"By this," said Erik, reaching into his other pocket and pulling from it a wooden box, inside of which was a large, brass key. "This is the key to the gate on the Rue Scribe side of the Opera. Through the gate, you will find a staircase which will lead down into the fifth cellar at the lakeshore. You have but to call to me and I will come to take you across the lake. Do not worry as to whether or not I will hear you, Christine. I will hear you wherever you call to me from, for I am always with you. Do not ever forget that. Promise me that you will never forget."  
"I promise, Erik."  
"Good. Then come. I will take you back to the surface."  
And so the two walked off together toward the surface of the Earth.

Later on that day, Christine arrived upon the home of Madame Valerius. It was a fairly small house with a grayish paint, lots of windows, and a dark wood door. Christine took a deep breath and walked up the porch steps to the door and gave a knock.  
"Just a moment," came a young woman's voice from inside.  
A few seconds later, Christine heard the door unlocking. It was opened by a maid with green eyes and strawberry blonde hair pulled neatly into a bun on the top of her head. She gasped when she saw Christine.  
"Mademoiselle Daaé! You have returned! Please, do come in. Oh, Madame will be so happy to know that you are back safe…"  
"I am glad to be back as well, Criada. Where is Mamma?"  
"She is in her room…"  
"Thank you, Criada," said Christine as she walked in and hung her coat up on the rack just inside.  
"Would you like me to inform Madame that you are home?"  
"No, thank you, Criada. I believe hat I should like to tell her on my own…"  
Christine walked up to a door in the house and, after a brief hesitation, opened the door and walked in. Inside, sat and old, bed-ridden woman, all alone, knitting quietly. She had thinning white hair, soft blue-gray eyes, and wrinkled skin that hung on her face so that she looked like an old bloodhound who had been worn out through the years. She was turned away from the door, so she did not see Christine enter, but she heard her.  
Criada, I thought that I told you to leave me alone for now," said Madame Valerius.  
"It is not Criada, Mamma…"  
The old dame turned around in shock. A huge smile was stretched across her face.  
"Christine, darling! You're back. Oh, come here, darling."  
Christine came up to her and the two hugged. 'Mamma' Valerius kissed her adopted daughter on the cheek.  
"Oh, I missed you so much…"  
"I missed you too, Mamma. I apologize for having left you for so long, but it is complicated to explain to you where I was…"  
"That's alright, Christine. Don't worry; I already know everything."  
"You do?"  
"Yes. The Angel of Music sent me a letter explaining where you were and what you were doing and that you would be fine and that he would bring you back to me when he was finished with you."  
"You mean he sent you a letter?"  
"Yes. He told me everything… Christine, what is that you're wearing on your finger?" she asked, pointing to the ring that Christine was wearing.  
"Oh, it is nothing, really. It was just a present."  
"A present from a man by any chance?"  
"Well… yes."  
"Christine, you do realize that when a man presents you with a ring and you accept it, you are accepting a promise as well; and a very great promise at that. You are accepting a promise of marriage. Christine, darling, I just don't know if you're ready to accept that promise yet. You're still very young. Does the Angel of Music know about this ring that you are wearing?"  
Christine was silent for a moment.  
"Mamma," she began, "there is to be no more question of the Angel of Music. You know that it is just a silly old folk tale. There is no truth to it…"  
"Promise me that you will never leave me again and I promise not to question you any further."  
Christine looked down at the ring on her finger.  
"I am sorry, but I cannot make you that promise, Mamma. I will explain someday – I promise that I will – but not now…"

After a few minutes, Christine and Madame Valerius were both back to their cheery selves. Madame Valerius sat up against her pillows, knitting, and Christine sat at her bedside, quietly watching. It was at this time that Monsieur le Vicomte Raoul e Chagny entered the bedroom. Christine saw him enter, rose, and offered him her and, but Raoul did nothing, seemingly dumbfounded by the sight of her.  
"Monsieur de Chagny," said Madame Valerius, "don't you recognize our little Christine? Her Angel of Music has sent her back to us."  
"Mamma!" said Christine, slightly blushing. "I thought that there was to be no more question of that. You know that there is no such thing as the Angel of Music."  
"But, darling, he gave you lessons for three months!"  
"Mamma, I promised to explain everything one of these days, and I hope to do so… but you promised me that until that day, you would be silent, and not question me any more about it."  
"Provided that you promised never to leave me again! But have you promised me that, Christine?"  
Christine stopped and turned to Raoul in the doorway, then back to Madame Valerius.  
"Mamma," se said, "all of this cannot interest Monsieur de Chagny…"  
"On the contrary, Mademoiselle," said Raoul, "anything that concerns you interests me to an extent which perhaps someday you will understand. I do not deny that my surprise equals my pleasure finding you with your adopted mother and that, after what happened between us the other night, after what you said and I was able to guess, I hardly expected to see you back so soon. I should be the first to delight at your return, that is, if you were not so bent on preserving a secret that might prove fatal to you. I have been your friend far too long, Christine, to not be alarmed, with Madame Valerius, at a disastrous adventure which will remain dangerous until we have unraveled its threads and which will surely end by making you its victim, Christine."  
"What do you mean," cried Madame Valerius distraughtly. "Is Christine in danger?"  
Christine made signs for Raoul to be quiet, but he ignored her.  
"Yes, Madame," he said.  
"Good Heavens! You must tell me everything, Christine! Why did you try to reassure me? What danger is she in, Monsieur de Chagny?"  
"An imposter is abusing her good faith."  
"Is the Angel of Music an imposter?"  
"She told you herself that there is no Angel of Music. There is a terrible mystery around us, Madame. Around you, around Christine; a mystery more dreadful than any number of ghosts or demons."  
"Do not believe him, Mummy!"  
"Then promise me that you will never leave me again."  
Christine was silent. She knew that she could not promise this to her dear old Mamma Valerius. It conflicted with what she had already promised to Erik earlier that day.  
"That is what you must promise, Christine," said Raoul. "It is the only thing which can reassure both your mother and I. We both promise not to ask you any more questions about the past if you promise to remain under our protection in the future."  
"That is a favor which I did not ask of you and a promise which I refuse to make. I am mistress of my own actions, Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny. You have no right to control me and I beg you to stop attempting to do so. What I have done the past fortnight was my choice. There is only one man in this world who has the right to demand an account of me and that is my husband. Well, Raoul, I have no husband and I never mean to marry!"  
It was at this moment that Raoul caught sight of the plain gold ring on Christine's finger. He turned pale at the sight of it.  
"You have no husband," he said, "and yet you wear a wedding ring."  
He tried to take her hand, but she quickly snatched it away.  
"That is a present," she said, blushing.  
"Christine! As you have no husband, the ring could have only been given to you by one who intends to make you his bride! Why deceive us any further? That ring is a promise; and that promise has been accepted!"  
"Why, that's exactly what I said," stated Madame Valerius.  
"And how did she answer you, Madame?"  
"I answered how I chose to answer," said the exasperated Christine. "Do you not think, Monsieur, that this cross-examination has gone on long enough? As far as I am concerned…"  
"I apologize for speaking as I did, Mademoiselle," interrupted Raoul. "You know that I had good intentions when I meddled in your matters. But I have seen more than you may realize, Christine, and that is what makes me concerned on your behalf."  
"Well, what is it that you think you saw, Monsieur?"  
"I saw your ecstasy at the sound of the voice, Christine. Yes, your _ecstasy_! You are under a very dangerous spell, and yet it seems that you are aware of some imposture because you say yourself _that there is no such thing as the Angel of Music_! If that was really the case, Christine, then why did you stand, with radiant features, as though you were really hearing angels? Christine, this voice is very dangerous. In the name of Heaven, Christine, and in the name of your father, tell us who the voice belongs to. Tell us the name of the man who had the audacity to put a ring on your finger.  
"Monsieur de Chagny," Christine said coldly, "You shall never know. And if I do love the man, it is still no concern of yours."  
"Alas, I am afraid that you truly do love the man. But what I am even more afraid of is the uncertainty that the man which you love is worthy of your love."  
"It is for me to be the judge of that."  
"Christine, you must understand that when a man adapts such romantic methods to entice a young girl's affections…"  
"Then either the man must be the villain or the girl a fool? Is that it?"  
"Christine…"  
"Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you know nothing about?"  
"I know more about him than you think. The name of you Angel f Music, Mademoiselle, is Erik."  
Christine was in shock. How could Raoul have found out? She certainly had not told him. And how could anyone else have? Did Raoul not know that this sort of knowledge could prove fatal to both him and to her? Oh, if Erik found out… No! This was no time to think of all of the things which Erik might do to them. The important thing now was to make sure Raoul would be quiet about it and not tell anyone, lest Erik should find out about the affair.  
"Who told you?" she said, white as a sheet.  
"You yourself!"  
"How do you mean?"  
"By speaking to him on the steps the other night at the masked ball. Did you not say, 'I shall be fine, Erik' to the man dressed as Red Death? Well, Christine, there was a poor, dying Raoul who overheard you."  
"You have no right to spy on me, Monsieur de Chagny!"  
"I was not spying on you. I happened to be coming down the staircase when you said it. I was trying to find you s that I could properly apologize to you for how I had treated you earlier, mademoiselle."  
"Oh, unhappy Raoul! Do you want to be killed?"  
"Perhaps," said the Vicomte in a voice despairing in love.  
At this, Christine could not help but to begin to cry. Oh, poor Raoul… He did love her after all. After all of those years, after all that he had said to her that night at the masked ball, he still loved her. She wanted to rush into his arms. To embrace him. To kiss his lips. But she stopped herself. Never before had she been filled with such absolute happiness and such dreaded fear at the same time. What if Erik found out? She knew that it was her duty, if she loved Raoul, to protect him from Erik.  
"Raoul," she said with all of the pure affection which she could muster, "forget the man's voice. Do not remember its name and swear to me that you shall never try to fathom the mystery of the man's voice."  
"Is it so terrible a mystery?"  
"There is no more awful mystery on this Earth. Swear to me that you will never attempt to find out. Swear to me that you will never seek audience with me again, not in my house, at the opera, in my dressing-room, or in any other place ever again unless I first send for you."  
"The promise to send for me sometimes," said Raoul.  
"I promise."  
"When?"  
"Tomorrow."  
"Then I swear to do as you ask," he said as he kissed her cheek and went away.  
"Such a nice young man," said Mamma Valerius after Raoul had left the room. "A man like that would make a fine husband indeed. Don't you agree, Christine?"  
"Oh, yes…," said Christine, blushing and savoring the warmth and tingle that Raoul's kiss had left on her sheek.


	13. Chapter 13: Playful as a Kitten

**Warning: This chapter contains adult content. It has been rated M for use of alcohol, sex, violence, and partial nudity. But then again... these things are all over Disney movies... O.o Oh, and just as clarification, I am perfectly aware that in the book, Erik and the siren are one and the same being. However, I though that it might make it a bit more interesting if they were seperate for the purpose of this story.**

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Chapter thirteen: Playful as a Kitten

Christine kept her promise that she made to Raoul and sent for him the very next morning. They spent the entire day together, smiling and laughing with eachother. They took walks together in the gardens of the opera, and he took her to dinner that evening and after the two had dined, Raoul took Christine to his brother's house. He entertained her for a while by showing her the different rooms of the home where he had grown up. After touring her around, she thanked him.  
"Today has been one of the happiest days of my life, Raoul. Thanks for everything…"  
"Wait," he said. Don't go. The night is still young and I have but more to show you."  
He placed an arm around her waist and gently drew her toward him.  
"Please, Raoul," said Christine, pushing him away, "Mamma will be worried if I am out too late…"  
"Just a few more minutes, Christine," he said, taking her hands.  
Christine looked into his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I suppose that a few more minutes could not hurt anyone…"  
Raoul smiled.  
"Good," he said. "Follow me."

Christine followed Raoul as he led her up stairs and down one winding hall after another until they came upon a door which he opened before her. When they entered the room, he lit a few candles and closed the door.  
"This is my room," said Raoul.  
"It is very nice, Raoul," said Christine, glancing about the room which was filled with expensive-looking furnishings, "but what is it that you wished to show me?"  
"This…," said Raoul, placing his arm around her waist and leading her to a glass door, which he opened to reveal a balcony, on which was a small bench. The pair walked out onto the balcony and looked up at the clear, starry night sky above them.  
"It is lovely," said Christine in a swooning voice.  
"I shall be right back, Christine," said Raoul.  
Christine stood there on the balcony, gazing out at the stars, while Raoul went back into the room. He picked up off of the bedside table a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. He then blew out the candles and returned to Christine.  
"Here," he said, offering her one of the glasses. When she took it, he popped the cork off of the bottle of wine and filled her glass, then filled his own. He then set the bottle down on the floor of the balcony.  
"Please, have a seat, Mademoiselle."  
The two sat down on the bench. Raoul put his arm around Christine, holding her close.  
"Cheers," he said. "To old friends."  
He kissed her forehead and they both drank from their glass.  
"I remember the last time that we sat together under the stars. It was when we were children, listening to your father's stories on the beach…"  
"Yes, but we did not have wine then," laughed Christine.  
"No, I suppose not," laughed Raoul, topping off Christine's cup.  
"My, how we have changed since those days when Father would tell his stories…"  
"Well, you haven't changed a bit."  
"How do you mean?"  
"As far as I can see, you're still that playful little girl that I remember from the past. You have that same beautiful golden hair… Those same dazzling blue eyes… That same dove-soft skin…," he said, caressing her cheek with his hand. "And those same deep, rosy lips…" With this, he kissed her lips. What the couple did not see, however, was the pair of glowing yellow eyes watching from the edge of the balcony. At first, Christine let herself go, savoring the sensation of Raoul's lips on hers. A sudden warmth and tingle settled over her entire body, which she had never felt before in her life. She closed her eyes and took in every strange new sensation she felt on her body. His fingertips, his lips, his tongue, his every breath… Suddenly, she snatched herself away.  
"What's the matter?" Raoul asked her. She was shaking and seemed to be nearly out of breath.  
"I should get home. Mamma will be worried sick…"  
"Your mother will be fine, Christine. Why do you seem so afraid to enjoy yourself? Can't you just take some time out of your life for a little pleasure?"  
"Raoul, this 'pleasure' of yours has gotten out of hand. It is very late and I must go home now."  
Christine left the balcony and went into the room, but before she could make it to the door, Raoul grabbed her arm and stopped her.  
"Please don't go, Christine…"  
"Raoul, I have told you; I must!"  
She tried to escape him, but Raoul pulled her toward him and locked her in a kiss. She began to feel dizzy, after having drunk so much wine with him on the balcony. She clung to him, trying to support herself, but became so delirious and disoriented that she fainted away.

The next morning, just as the first rays of dawn were seeping through the open balcony doors, Raoul woke up. He sat up, yawned and stretched, then looked down at Christine, sleeping peacefully on the bed beside him. She looked so beautiful to him, lying there, her golden hair fallen all around her, just beginning to capture the sun's first beams, her shoulders and neck as fair as freshly fallen snow, clothed in her lace chemise. What a lovely image to wake up to; and what a delightful evening it had been before. To hold her flesh in his hands, to kiss her, to feel her lips on his own… Oh, it was almost too much joy for him to take in all at once. He bent over her, staring down at her. This was what he wanted; to have her by his side always. He would give up his life as a sailor and propose to her on the same beach where they first met. And they would be married and honeymoon there in Perros. But then, the youth remembered that it was alas, all too good to be true, for Christine could never become the wife of the Vicomte de Chagny. No, he was to marry a woman of lineage and class and stature. A woman who would not be frowned upon in society. And most of all, a woman who was French. Raoul sighed. He wished that he could make that moment last forever, but alas, he knew that he could not. He bent down and kissed her cheek, then got out of bed. Christine felt the mattress shift and opened her eyes. She looked about herself with a bewildered air, confused and frightened as to where she was. She sat up and saw Raoul across the room, unbuttoning his shirt.  
"Raoul! What are you doing here? Where am I?"  
"Calm down, Christine. You are in my brother's house, remember? I invited you here last night and we shared a bottle of wine on my balcony."  
"Then why am I lying here in your bed and where are my clothes?"  
"Relax. You fainted when you were leaving and so I put you in my bed so that you would not have to lay on the floor until you came to yourself again. As for your clothes, they're over there on the dresser. I didn't want to worry about you getting too hot through the night, especially if that was what had caused you to faint in the first place, and so I took the liberty of removing them for you. It did you some good too. I don't see how you women are able to breath corseted so tightly. It's no wonder that you faint so often, Christine; you don't get enough air. I meant no harm…"  
"Do not lie to me, Raoul! I know exactly what you meant! You are just like every other man in this world!…"  
"Christine, don't say that," said Raoul as he walked toward her.  
"Stay away from me!"  
"Christine, I just want to help…"  
"Have you not helped me enough as it is?  
There came a noise from the door and it opened to reveal Comte Philippe de Chagny. He stopped and starred, in shock at the sight of a young woman dressed in her undergarments and lying in his brother's bed and his brother, missing his shirt.  
"Raoul," said Comte Philippe through his teeth, "what is going on in here and why is that blonde whore in your bed?"  
Philippe rushed at Christine and seized her wrist, forcing her to her feet. Christine became frightened and tried to pry away his hands, but it angered Philippe and he struck her on her cheek. Christine gave a cry of pain. It was then, trembling and tears streaming from her eyes, wide with fear, that Philippe recognized the woman before him as Mademoiselle Christine Daaé.  
"You…," he said in shock. "I thought that you had a bit more decency, Mademoiselle Daaé. My mistake. I should have realized to come to expect this sort of racy behavior from an actress."  
Philippe threw her to the ground and made a move as if to strike her, but Raoul threw himself between them, stopping his enraged brother.  
"Leave her alone, Philippe," said Raoul, suddenly coming to Christine's defense. "If you want to blame someone, then blame me. This isn't Christine's fault – it's mine! I'm the one who brought her here. I'm the one who let her into my room. I'm the one who got her drunk. I'm the one who kissed her. I'm the one who forced her to stay. I'm the one who took her clothes and laid her in my bed after she fainted, alright! It's my fault! Christine didn't do anything wrong. Infact, most of this time she has been unconscious, so if you want to vent your anger on someone, then take it out on me; not on the woman I love. Christine is the kindest, most beautiful, most talented woman that I have ever met in my entire lifetime, and if you have a problem with my having feelings for her, then you can just leave this room right now because nothing that you do or say is ever going to make me change my mind about her."  
Philippe looked at Christine and then back at his brother. He didn't know what to say. If word ever got out that his brother had slept in bed with a woman whom he was not married or even engaged to, especially when that woman was an actress, the name of the Chagny family would be scandalized forever. Besides that, what if she became impregnated? Oh, the results of his younger brother's fetish for this child of a soubrette could prove to be catastrophic. But he looked at Raoul's face and saw that he was not going to stand down. Perhaps the best thing to do was to just leave them alone and hope that no scandal would get out. And so, Philippe left the room.  
Raoul turned to Christine, who was still on the floor, trembling and in tears. He felt terrible for getting her into so much trouble. With his brother, with her mother… and surely with this "Erik," whoever he was. Why had he been so selfish in pleasing his own amorous feelings. Cursing himself for his actions, Raoul helped Christine to her feet.  
"Don't listen to anything that Philippe says about you. You're a good girl, Christine, and you and I both know that you're better than all of those nasty things that he said about you."  
"No," Christine sniffled. "He is right. I should not be here… Raoul, how could you do this? I thought that you were my friend. I trusted you…"  
Raoul sighed sadly. There was a long silence between the two.  
"I believe that it is time for me to go," she said finally.  
"You're probably right."  
He took Christine's clothes from the dresser and handed them to her. She took then, looking ashamed of herself, and walked over to the other side of the room and began to dress herself.  
"You look very lovely today," said Raoul, hoping to cheer her up. But she shot him a glare that was so full of hate that he thought her eyes would surely burn a hole through his soul..  
"Christine…"  
"Do not speak to me. Just come over here and help me to tie my corset."  
"As you wish," he said, giving a slightly mocking bow. Christine rolled her eyes as he came up behind her and pulled the strings of her corset.  
"Is this fine?" he asked.  
"Tighter."  
"How about now?"  
"Tighter."  
"Now?"  
"Raoul, if I wanted it this lose, I would have been perfectly capable of tying it on my own. Tighter!"  
"Christine, I'm afraid that I'm going to pull it too tight and hurt you…"  
"Really? You did not seem afraid of hurting me when you took it off."  
"Christine…"  
"Just tie it as tight as you possibly can."  
Without a single word Raoul obeyed and began yanking at the strings. It was then that Christine happened to look down at her hand and find that the gold ring was missing. Raoul, in the mean time, had just finished tying her corset.  
"Raoul, what have you done with my ring?"  
"Nothing. Why do you ask?"  
"My ring! It is gone!"  
Christine began looking about the room frantically.  
"Calm down, Christine. It must be around here somewhere… We'll find it eventually."  
"You do not understand, Raoul. I need to find it immediately. It is important."  
"Why?" said Raoul jealously. " Because it is a gift from your belovèd Erik?"  
"Raoul, now is not the time for this! That ring is a matter of life and death!"  
Raoul rolled his eyes, but began to help Christine in her search for the ring nevertheless. After a few minutes, he was searching through the bed sheets and came across Christine's ring. He picked it up carefully and held it up to the light.  
"I've found it," he called.  
Christine rushed to his side.  
"Oh, thank Heaven!" she said in relief. She tried to take the ring from him, but he raised it out of her reach.  
"Raoul, give me back my ring!"  
"On one condition…"  
"Raoul, now is not the time for games. I need that ring."  
"If you aren't willing to accept the conditions, then I am not willing to give you your ring back."  
"But Raoul…"  
"No deal, no ring."  
Christine sighed.  
"What are your conditions?"  
"First of all, I want you to promise that you will still send for me often and that you will act as if anything that happened last night or earlier on this morning never took place and that you will never hold any of it against me."  
"I promise."  
Christine tried to take back her ring, but Raoul would not allow her to do so.  
"Secondly," he continued, "you must tell me that you love me."  
"I love you!"  
"Like you mean it!"  
"I love you…"  
"Better. Now, the last thing that you must do is allow me to give you a kiss."  
"No, Raoul! Not after what happened the last time I let you kiss me!…"  
"Aha! You're already breaking the first part of our little deal here!"  
"Raoul…"  
"No kiss? Then I suppose I shall just go drop this ring off of the edge of the balcony. Goodbye, little golden wedding ring from a man named Erik."  
Christine sighed. She closed her eyes and held her lips out to Raoul.  
"I thought that you would see things my way…"  
He kissed her lips and Christine felt that same sensation come about her that she had felt when he had kissed her the night before on the balcony. She shivered, and yet warmth overwhelmed her from head to foot. She clung to him. She never wanted to let go. She never wanted that kiss to end. Erik would surely kill her if he knew that she had subjected herself willingly to Raoul, but she didn't care. Oh, why did Raoul have to be so good at kissing her? Why did his lips have to taste so sweet? Why did it all have to be so marvelous when he was strictly forbidden to her? She couldn't bear it any longer. She tore herself away from Raoul in tears.  
"Christine, what's wrong?"  
"Why do you have to be so wonderful?" she sobbed, "Why do you have to make it all feel so good? You and I both know, Raoul, that it is impossible for us to be together, so why do I feel so at home in your arms? Why? Why do you torment me so? Why do you mock me with every kiss that you give? What is this feeling that I get every time that we touch?"  
"Christine, it is nothing to be upset about. It is love…"  
"Why? Why do I love you so much? Why is it that every time that we part, I feel as if I am dying?"  
Raoul took the trembling, teary-eyed Christine in his arms. He comforted her like a father who was reassuring a little child who had woken up in the night after a bad dream.  
"Shh…," he hushed.  
He ran his hand gently up and down her back. She hiccuped, trying to stop her tears. He kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair.  
"Oh, Raoul… I wish that it did not have to be like this…"  
"I know, Christine. I know… You know, there is still a way for us to be together…"  
"How?"  
"I'll renounce my tittle. I'll change my name. We can elope and then go run away to live in the mountains. No one will have to know but the two of us. We can be happy and free. Never bound by our duties or by society. No one will find us. Come, Christine. We can leave right now. We can leave this cruel world behind…"  
"No, Raoul… I cannot… My responsibilities lie here…"  
"But don't you also have a responsibility to your heart as well, Christine? Think about it."  
"I_ am_ thinking about it, Raoul. I am sorry, but I cannot go with you…"  
Raoul turned away for a moment in disappointment, but he took Christine's hand and on it placed a ring and a kiss.  
"You should finish getting dressed. I'll take you home when you're done…"  
"Thank you, Raoul…"

When Christine was finished dressing, she went downstairs and found Raoul speaking with his brother, Comte Philippe, in the study. When she entered, the two stopped and turned to her. Raoul walked to her, smiling. He gave her a brief kiss on the lips, then put his arm around her waist and turned to Philippe.  
"Philippe," he said, "I would like to introduce you to my old friend, Christine. We met when we were children and you had sent me to live with our aunt in Perros. Her father, Monsieur Daaé, was the one who gave me violin lessons. She is the little girl that I had gone to see when we visited Perros about eight years ago. And do you know what, Philippe? Someday, if she wills it to be so, I mean to marry her. I don't care what you have to say about it. I have quite made up my mind and absolutely nothing that you say can turn me against her. And now, I am taking her back to her home and perhaps later on to lunch as well."  
"Fine then," said Philippe. "But keep in mind that if you ever do marry her, you, nor her, nor any of your descendents, shall ever find shelter in this house, nor shall you ever be welcome any longer as a member of the Chagny family. I will not allow my brother to throw away his life for an unworthy woman."  
"Then don't expect to ever see me back here again after this moment. Come along, Mademoiselle."  
Christine tried to remark upon his words to the Comte de Chagny, but Raoul put a finger to her lips before she could even say a single word. He kissed her forehead and began to lead her out of the door. She tried to look back at Philippe, as if to apologize, but Raoul turned her face back toward him. Philippe stared after them, his face a crimson red. How could his brother even dare to fall in love with a woman like her? They both knew that any sort of relationship like this could ultimately lead to the end of the entire Chagny household. Philippe sighed. He knew that his brother's infatuation with the girl would surely become the death of him.

Raoul and Christine sat in the carriage. Raoul had an arm around Christine, who sat quietly in a pensive frame of mind.  
"Christine, you seem troubled. Is everything alright?"  
"Raoul, I have been thinking about what your brother said and… well… I think that it is best for everyone if we just not see eachother any more."  
"Christine, how can you talk like that? I thought that you enjoyed the time that we spent together. Don't listen to Philippe. He's just a pompous old windbag, jealous  
because he's forty-one years old and still a bachelor. It's nothing to fret over…"  
"But it is, Raoul. I love you, but we both have certain obligations to withhold to. You are a vicomte and a sailor. You have political duties that you must fulfil and there are people on the ship that you are scheduled to voyage on who are depending on you."  
"And what's your excuse then?"  
"What is_ my_ excuse? Raoul, I have to be able to care for Mamma Valerius as well as the obligations which I must withhold to the Opera and…"  
"And what?" said Raoul jealously. "And to your precious Erik?"  
"Raoul, I thought that we agreed that you were never to say that name, never think of that name, never to remember that name…"  
"Oh, stop it, Christine. I know that he is the reason that you refuse to stay with me…"  
Christine sighed.  
"Raoul," she said softly, "you just have to trust me. It is better for both of us. If you love me, then promise that you will never plan to see me again unless I first send for you…. Please promise me, Raoul…"  
"I promise," said Raoul, heaving a sigh.  
The carriage slowed to a stop and the driver opened the door. Christine began to step out, but Raoul caught her arm and stopped her. He pressed a kiss to her trembling lips.  
"So that you'll never forget me, Mademoiselle."  
"Oh, Raoul… How could I ever forget you?… I must go…"  
"Let me go with you. Someone has to explain to Madame Valerius where you've been all this time."  
"Thank you, Raoul… For everything."  
She gazed into his beautiful blue eyes and gave a sad sigh, then stepped out of the carriage with him following closely behind. The pair walked up to the door of the gray house and Raoul gave a knock. When Criada came and opened it, he gave a nod and he and Christine entered the cozy home.

It was not long before they came upon the bedroom of Madame Valerius. Christine rushed in and hugged her foster mother.  
"Christine," scolded Madame Valerius. "Where have you been? I was worried sick about you! I allow you to leave for what should have been only a few hours and you don't come back all night. I was sure that something terrible had happened to you…"  
"It was my fault that Christine did not come home on time last night," interrupted Raoul. "We went to my brother's house after supper last night and I kept her a bit later than expected, and so she spent the night. I apologize for my having caused you so much worry over your daughter, Madame. The next time that something like this happens I shall send word to you so that you know that Christine is safe. Again, I apologize. Now if you'll excuse me, Madame, I should probably be getting on my way…"  
"Oh, won't you stay for lunch, Monsieur de Chagny," said Mamma Valerius. "I'm sure that you and Christine have a lot that you need to discuss. The past, the present, your plans for the future, names for my future grandchildren…"  
"Mamma!" cried the thoroughly embarrassed Christine. Raoul stifled his laughter, seeing the rouge in Christine's cheeks deepening.  
"I wouldn't want to intrude, Madame," he said. "Of course, I will stay if Mademoiselle wills it to be so."  
"I would like that very much so," said Christine, trying vainly to hide a smile.

Later that afternoon, just as the sun was setting, Christine and Raoul were siting in a back garden of Madame Valerius' little gray house. It was overgrown with fragrant roses and sweet blooming lavender. There were violets and jasmine and lilies and orchids. There was a tall pear tree whose strong branches stretched out, providing cool and inviting shade and was ripe with the last sweet fruit of the season. The path through the garden was cluttered with fallen petals and leaves that had been discarded by the various flora within that tiny utopia. There was a nest on an overhead branch where a pair of bluebirds sang their tuneful duet, then snuggled down together in the nest. Christine gave a sigh of contentment and rested her head on Raoul's handsome shoulder. He put an arm around her and for a while, the two just sat there in that picturesque scene together and for once in both of their lives, all of the Earth seemed at peace. They were free. Free from the world. Free from society, free of their duties, free from trouble… Free of everything and everyone. Paradise had found them. Heaven had found them. Raoul looked up and noticed that the sun had almost completely set.  
"I should probably be going," said Raoul, beginning to get up. "It's getting dark."  
"Please," said the swooning Christine. "Do not go yet. Do not leave me yet…"  
"But, Christine," Raoul laughed, "I need to get home and you need to get to bed."  
"But Raoul..."  
"No 'but's', Christine. I shall see you again tomorrow when you send for me."  
"But that is just it! I do not know when the next time will be that I will be able to see you. Or even if I will be able to see you again…"  
"Christine, what do you mean?"  
"I am sorry, Raoul, but tomorrow I shall be going away for a little while."  
"Going away? But why? Where? For how long?"  
"I do not know exactly for how long and I cannot tell you the 'why' or the 'where'."  
"Why can't you tell me?" he asked suspiciously.  
"I just cannot… I am sorry, Raoul. I truly wish that I did not have to go…"  
And she gave a despairing sigh.  
"It will be alright, Christine. Just promise me that you shall never forget me and I shall be in your heart always."  
"I promise, Raoul. And do you swear to me, Monsieur, that I shall always remain in your memory?"  
He kissed her passionately and with this he said to her: "Mademoiselle, I shall never forget you."  
And she stared after him with tearful eyes as he walked away and disappeared into the foggy mist which had just begun to form.  
The next morning, Christine took the box that Erik had given to her and went to the Opera. As you can imagine, there was much amazement shown by many of those who saw her. She had been gone for so long and they half expected never to see her return to the Opera. But she paid them no mind and walked straight to her dressing room. While she was there, she wrote three notes; one to the managers, Messieurs Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, telling them that she planned to return as soon as possible to performing, one to Madame Valerius explaining to her that she was going to be gone for a few days and not to worry over her, and one to Raoul expressing her intimate affections for him and inviting him to come see her next performance whenever it may be. She sealed the letters to the managers and to Raoul, then placed the letter to Raoul in the envelope with the letter to Madame Valerius, and then sealed it. She then opened the wooden box and removed the large brass key. She put the box into one of the cupboards, then took with her the key and left the dressing room.

She followed the instructions that Erik had given to her before she had left him and after several minutes of walking, came upon the edge of the lake on which stood Erik's house. She saw the little boat nearby, so she went and climbed in and began to paddle to the other side toward the house on the lake. She had gotten about halfway across the lake when the oar seemed to catch on something below the water's surface and she dropped it into the water. After giving an annoyed sigh, Christine reached over to the edge of the boat to try to retrieve it and no sooner had she reached out than a chilling hand shot out of the water, seized her wrist and dragged her in. Christine was terrified. She tried to cry out, but her lungs filled with water. She tried to get to the surface, but whatever it was that had seized her wrist continued to drag her down. Her vision grew cloudy. She heard the faint sound of a beautiful chanting voice that belonged to an unfamiliar woman, and a more familiar man's voice which seemed to call her name.  
"Christine… Christine…"

Erik sat at the front of the house on the lake with the dripping wet and unconscious Christine stretched out in front of him. He placed his hands on her abdomen and repeatedly pressed with the weight of is body, trying to force the water out of her lungs. He touched her hand and to his dismay, found that it was icy cold. Trembling, he bent down toward her. Perhaps it was possible for him to give her his own air as it seemed that she was unable to take her own. Very carefully, he opened her mouth, placed his lips on hers, and exhaled, then pressed down on her abdomen again, causing her to release the air. After a few times of repeating these movements, Christine began to cough. She opened her eyes to find Erik staring down at her. Erik embraced her deliriously.  
"Don't ever do that to me again," he said. "I'm far too old to have you scare me that way. Why didn't you just call for me like I told you to?"  
"I saw the boat and thought that I would save you the trouble and just row across on my own. I did not mean to fall into the lake…"  
"You did not fall, Christine; it was the Siren."  
"Erik, do not be ridiculous. There is no such thing as a siren. They are mythical creatures. How could a siren be in the lake?"  
"Believe me, Christine. Why would I lie to you? I have the Siren there to guard the lake from unwanted visitors so that I can be sure no one 'accidentally' stumbles upon my house. It has been taught to drown any intruders."  
"But I am not an intruder…"  
"Yes, I know, but she, the Siren, does not know that. She assumes that anyone who isn't me who attempts to cross the lake from the shore to the house isn't supposed to be there."  
"But surely with the number of occasions you have taken me across the lake, she should recognize me by now…"  
"That is the other thing. The Siren is extremely jealous of you, Christine. She believes that you are going to 'replace' her usefulness to me."  
"Her 'usefulness' to you? Erik, what do you mean?"  
"Well… besides being a guard, the Siren is also a… 'special' sort of servant…"  
"How do you mean?"  
"You know what? Just forget that I said anything. She is just afraid that if you become my wife that I would no longer have any use for her as my guard. But nevertheless, she is very dangerous and I don't want you going anywhere near her without my supervision. Is that understood?"  
Christine nodded. It was then that Erik saw that she was shivering and soaked through to the bone.  
"Come along," he said, helping her to her feet. "Let's go get you dried off and have a nice hot cup of tea inside."

Later that evening, Erik and Christine were sitting in the dining room of the house on the lake having dinner together. Erik had made sure that there were freshly cut flowers, lit candles, fine wine, and had done everything in his power to assure that it would be the most romantic dinner possible. Yet it was only after a few minutes of flirting and laughing with her that there came a knock at the door. He tried to ignore it, but it came again.  
"Erik," Christine said softly, "perhaps you should go check and see who is at the door…"  
"Whoever it is can wait, Christine. I'm not allowing anyone or anything to disturb our time alone together."  
The knock came again.  
"Erik, if you are not going to answer the door, then I shall.." And she tossed her napkin onto her plate, stood from her chair, and left the table.  
"Christine, wait…"  
It was no use, for Christine had already left the dining room and was at the front door of the house on the lake. She opened it to find Mina with a hatbox in her hands.  
"Hello there, Christine," said Mina. "Is Erik here?"  
"As a matter of fact," said Erik, shoving his way past Christine to get to the front door, "I am."  
"May I come in?"  
"Well, actually…"  
"Of course you may, Mina," said Christine, cutting him off.  
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose…"  
"Oh, you are not imposing on anything at all. Is that not right, Erik?"  
Christine gave Erik a little nudge.  
"Of course not," he sighed reluctantly.  
Mina walked into the house.  
"Oh! That reminds me," said Christine, reaching into her bodice and pulling out the two letters that she had written earlier on in the day. "They are a bit damp, but would you mind sending them out for me, Erik? One is for the managers and the other is for Mamma Valerius."  
Erik reluctantly took the letters and shoved them into his pocket, then went over to Mina and Christine, who has moved to the living room.  
"So Mina," said Christine, "what is it that you have in your box?"  
"Oh, nothing," said Mina taking the lid off of the box. "Just this." And she pulled from the box a tiny fluffy white kitten with bright blue eyes.  
"She is adorable," Christine exclaimed gleefully.  
"Her name is Marie," said Mina.  
Christine went over and scratched the kitten under the chin. Erik backed up a bit, nervously. After a couple of minutes the kitten squirmed free of Mina's grasp, went over to Erik, and began to cuddle and rub against his legs. Erik cringed.  
"I think that she likes you," said Mina.  
"That's nice," he said, kicking Marie away. "Unfortunately for her, I'm not a cat person."  
"Why not, Erik?" asked Christine, picking up Marie and planting a kiss on the top of her head.  
"They're creepy," he said. "They have those huge eyes and never blink and their teeth are like daggers and they have sharp claws that they are just waiting to dig into your flesh. Not to mention that they make the most menacing hissing and rumbling and mewing noises…"  
"You are afraid of cats," Christine laughed. "You? You who lives five stories beneath the ground, wears a death's head mask, create the music of Heaven, and are willing to kill anyone who gets in the way of what you want, are afraid of a little kitten?"  
"I just don't like cats!"  
"So if I were to tell you that the only way that I would be willing to marry you is if you bought me a cat, would you allow me to have one?"  
"Would you marry me if I got you one?"  
"Well, no… but…"  
"Then no."  
"Erik, it is just a little kitten…"  
"No; a monster is what it is. No cats, Christine. Perhaps a dog later on when we're married and have children and…"  
"Children! Erik, do you not think that you are getting a bit ahead of yourself? I have not even agreed to marry you and yet you are already planning our children. Did you ever think of perhaps talking to me about this first? After all, I would be the one bearing the children should we have any. Do you not think that I should have some say in this matter? Erik, just slow down…"  
"It's not your choice, Christine. We've already been through this. You will marry me whether you like it or not. However, I'd rather you enjoy our wedding, which is why I have delayed so much; so that you may learn to love me. You are a woman, Christine. The good Lord created your kind to bear children and to take care of the home. Christine, I shouldn't have to discuss this with you. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, it is a fact of life. Do I make myself clear?"  
He spat these words at Christine who afterwards seemed on the verge of tears. Suddenly realizing what he had said to her, reached out to her, trying to comfort her, but she dropped the kitten and ran away as fast as she could toward the lake.  
"That was very rude of you, Erik," scolded Mina.  
"I didn't mean to upset her like that…"  
"You really need to learn to choose your words more carefully. What she meant by what she said to you was that she's never really given any thought to having children and that it was all a bit much for her to take in at once. You have to realize that this sort of thing is different for a woman than it is for a man. A lot more changes for a woman in the process of child bearing than does for a man. Besides that, children are a huge responsibility. Perhaps she was just suggesting that perhaps the two of you, as a couple, just aren't ready for something as big as children yet and that perhaps you should take the time to just settle down and enjoy yourselves before you rush to think about children."  
"I know, Mina. It's just that… well… I'm not getting any younger and if it doesn't happen soon, I may never be able to have children of my own… I should go talk to her…"  
"Let her be alone for now, Erik. She has a lot running through her mind right now. Just give her some time to take everything in. Let her e young before you force her to grow up. She's just a child herself…"  
Erik hesitated, but agreed. And so he went to his room.


	14. Chapter 14: The Illness

**I don't think that I really have anything to explain for this chapter... I hope that you enjoy reading and please take the time to send me a review or PM with your questions and/or comments. :)**

* * *

Chapter fourteen: The Illness

Christine sat by the edge of the lake, staring down at her reflection. Why did she bother coming back? No one was forcing her to return, so what had compelled her to come back? She had so much freedom when she was out on the surface. What if she would never be able to enjoy those freedoms ever again? For how long had she unknowingly agreed to submit herself to being Erik's underground slave? Oh, if only Raoul were there… He would surely know what to do. Raoul always seemed to know just what to say and do to cheer her up. He seemed to understand her perfectly. She heaved a sad sigh. Was she really destined to be nothing but the little wife of some madman who had a siren in his lake and who feared a tiny kitten and who saw her as no good for anything besides keeping the house and raising children. How could the same man who had given her so much power before suddenly take it all away and expect her to be nothing more than a humble servant in his home? How could it be the same man who had given her so much hope be so shallow as to crush all of her dreams in a single blow? She allowed a tear to roll off of her ivory cheek and fall into the ominous black waters of the lake. Her reflection was scattered by the ripples from her fallen tear. She watched as the tiny ripples grew and spread out encompassing the entire lake. She marveled at how such a small tear could cause such a commotion that it disturbed the entirety of that vast aquatic world. Her reflection reformed in the water in front of her and she stared at it once again. What could Erik possibly see in her that made him fall so madly in love with her? There was nothing extravagant about her. She did not come from a wealthy family. She was just a plain, poor, Swedish orphan girl. She dipped her hand in the water, but she felt something brush against it and quickly withdrew her hand. A figure rose from the water. It was the body of a woman. She had bluish gray skin and long ebony hair. Her body was very trim and her soaked, flowing hair clung to it. Her face seemed to be completely expressionless except for a searing hatred burning in her piercing blue eyes. At her hips, her skin began to flake out and form shimmering scales which shined a deep evergreen colour. Her fingers were very slender and webbed. She rested her bony hands on the deck where Christine sat.  
"Why do you disturb my resting, girl?" the ghastly woman hissed.  
"I did not mean to, Madame," Christine stammered. "Please forgive me. I was just sitting by the lake and…"  
"Silence! You are not welcome here, trespasser. These waters belong to my master."  
"Then you must be the siren that Erik told me about…"  
"I am she, and you are not welcome here. My master gave me strict orders not to allow any soul who dares to wander upon his home to live another moment after."  
"But I am not intruding. Erik invited me here…"  
"Do not call him Erik. No mortal woman should ever be given the privilege to call my master by his first name."  
"But why not? He enjoys being called Erik. I am sure you have a name that you prefer to be called over simply being addressed as 'the siren'."  
"I have no name because I require no name. I am the siren of this lake and I am the_ only_ siren of this lake. Therefore, I have no need for any name other than the Siren. Besides that, the Master does not need to be troubled with the burden of uttering so many names; especially yours, Mademoiselle Christine. The last thing that the Master needs is to be thinking about marriage!"  
Christine couldn't help but to stumble back a bit, nearly knocked over by the rage exerted by the Siren.  
"Marriage!" Christine stammered. "I thought that I had made it perfectly clear to Erik that I have absolutely no intention of marriage. Look, I am very sorry if you feel that I am interfering with any relationships that there may be between you and Erik, but you must know that I have wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of this. It is not my fault if Erik has fallen in love with me and I fully assure you that I have absolutely no intention of ever marrying him.  
"You lie," she hissed.  
"I am not lying," said Christine, now in tears. "I do not love Erik and I am not here by choice. Yes, Erik is a very close friend, but he is nothing more. My heart already belongs to another man."  
The Siren was about to remark upon this, but there was a click as the door handle began to turn, so she quickly dove and splashed away. Christine could feel the icy water droplets from when the Siren had dived hit her face as Erik stepped out of the house on the lake. He went up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders and she leaned back against his body for comfort. He ran his fingers through her soft blonde curls.  
"Look…," he said to her softly, "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I know that I have been forcing all of this stuff about having children on you all at once. I realize that you are a bit young to have to be considering such things and I apologize."  
"It is fine, Erik. I just want you to realize that I have not yet agreed to marriage and that I was hoping that, when I do marry, I would be able to enjoy married life a bit before thinking of things such as children… Oh, Erik… I just…"  
Christine sighed.  
"I understand," he said. "I don't want to rush you into anything, but you must come to realize that I am not a young man any more. I don't have much time left. All I am asking is that you consider the possibility. But whatever you choose, just always remember that I love you and that I respect your opinion and decisions no matter what happens… Come inside now, dear. It's getting late and you should really get to bed."

It was a little after noon the next morning in the little house on the lake. Erik sat in the dining room, alone at the table. He sipped a cup of coffee and glanced over at the clock.  
"Where could she be?…"  
He sat and waited. Another half an hour passed by. He tapped his fingers on the table. Finally, growing impatient, he left the table and headed to the Louis Philippe room.  
Erik opened the door, and when he found Christine, he was mortified at what he saw. She was so pale that he could almost see his reflection in his colourless skin. Her eyes had lost all of their sparkle and her normally rosy lips were drained of all of their colour. He would have thought that she was dead if it were not for her barking cough.  
"Christine! Are you alright?"  
Christine closed her eyes sadly and opened the hand which she had been coughing into. She showed it to Erik and to his horror, he found that it was covered in blood.  
"Oh no… Tell me what happened. How do you feel?"  
She tried to speak to him, but her voice was so hoarse that he stopped her.  
"Don't speak," he said. "It will only make it worse. Just rest, and I'll figure out what to do. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I'll go make you some tea with honey. The honey will be good for your throat. Wait here; I'll be back with your tea."

A couple of minutes later, Erik came back into the Louis Philippe room carrying a silver tray on which was a porcelain tea pot and cup. He poured some tea into the cup, blew on it, then handed in to Christine. She took it from him, but refused to make eye contact with him. It was almost as if she was ashamed to take it from him. Erik sensed that she was troubled, and so he set the tray down on the chest of drawers and sat down at her side on the bed. She turned away, still refusing to look at him.  
"Christine…"  
He placed an arm on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but still nothing. Very gently, he turned her face toward him and found that she was crying.  
"Christine, what is the matter?… You're going to be fine, alright? We'll work our way through this… Look, I don't know why you're sick, or what's causing you to suddenly become all emotional like this, but I want to be able to help you…"  
Just then, an idea entered his mind. He went over to the vanity and grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pencil, then returned to Christine's side.  
"Here," said Erik. "Since you are unable to speak, write what it is that you desire to say on this. Now please tell me; why the sudden urge for seclusion?"  
Christine took the paper and pencil and began to write. After a few minutes, she handed the sheet of paper back to Erik.  
"You no longer have any use for me," she wrote. "Without my voice, I am nothing more to you than a little bird with a broken wing who ha forgotten how to sing…"  
"That's not true!" said Erik, now nearly in tears himself. "Christine, I love you – with or without your voice. What kind of man would I be if I were so hypocritical as to shun a woman who was ill and lost her voice and yet still expect her to be able to accept my face as hideous as it is?… There's more than just that troubling you, isn't there?"  
Christine nodded and sighed.  
"Perhaps there's something that you would like to tell me about the events which took place during the couple of days in which I allowed you to return to your dear old Mamma Valerius?"  
Christine hesitated, but she nodded.  
"Something involving a certain young man of whom I know that you are very fond of."  
She bit her lip and turned away.  
"Tell me," he said, shoving the paper and pencil back toward her. She took them and began to write. This is what she said:  
"I did not mean for things to turn out the way that they did, Erik. It started out as simply Monsieur de Chagny coming over to pay a visit to Mamma Valerius. He was not aware that I was at home, and I was not aware that he was coming. Things began fine, we were both happy to see eachother, but then he started talking about things that he shouldn't have known about. You at the masked ball, the ring that you gave to me… And then he mentioned you, Erik, and he knew your name. I was afraid for both him and for you. The only way that I could make him leave was to promise him that I would meet him the next day and to spend a bit of time with him. I know that you strictly forbade me from any type of rendezvous with him, but it seemed harmless enough. It had been such a long time since we had spoken to eachother face-to-face, that I suppose I just wanted the comfort of seeing an old friend again. So the next day, the two of us went out to lunch together, took a nice walk, and then went to his house after dark and shard a bottle of wine on his balcony. It was a bit of a tender moment so I kissed him and the next thing I knew it was morning and I was lying in his bed."  
Erik shot Christine a glare and she shrunk a bit.  
"Christine," he said, "I specifically told you to stay away from this man and not only did you disobey me in that, but then you go and stay the night in his room as well! I thought that I cold trust you. I mean, I had come to expect this much from a man lie him, but to know that you willingly submitted yourself to all of this… Why, the very thought of such a thing is simply horrific. Christine, I am afraid that you leave me no choice. This man is a dangerous threat to both of us and I think that it is about time that I put an end to it."  
Christine clasped his arm and shook her heard despairingly. By then, the tears streamed down her ivory cheeks. Erik looked into those sorrow-stricken eyes and began to shake all over like a leaf.  
"Please don't cry," he said, softly. "I can't bear to see you cry like that. Please, Christine, you must realize that it causes me infinite pain to see such sorrow and suffering come from you… What ever happened to that sweet, charming young lady I used to tutor in her dressing room and who would so endearingly call me her Angel of Music? I miss her, Christine… Would it be too much to ask you to atleast pretend to be happy here with me? I know that you're a much better actress than this…"  
Erik sighed.  
"Look," he continued, " that man isn't right for you anyway. He's far too wrapped up in politics to ever be able to love you the way that I can. Mary me, Christine. Marry me and I shall prove it to you. I can make all of your dreams come true. I can make you the greatest star in all of France. I can see to it that you are decked in the finest of jewels and clothed in the richest of garments. Name your slightest fancy or whim and I shall be there to cater to it. If you wish to travel the world, I'll carry you to every far off, exotic land on my back. If you want a castle by the sea, I shall build it there with my bare hands, every detail done exactly to your specifications. If you wish to become Queen of the Earth and all of the Heavens, I'll sell my soul if it means making you happy, and lay there at your feet as your lowly servant and husband. Marry me, Christine. Say that you'll love me and marry me."  
He had become so madly delirious in his love for her, that he began to shake her frantically. Christine was dumbstruck with terror, unable to muster the courage to even breathe. There before her was that hellish nightmare of a face. That withered, sunken skull with those deep, hollow eyes that seemed ready to consume her. She could feel his hot, damp breath on her face. Why had she come back? She should have run away and eloped with Raoul when she had the chance… Finally, Christine took a deep breath and with all of the courage of which she was capable, removed the ring that Erik had given to her previously and threw it at full force across the room. Erik looked at where the ring had stricken the wall and then looked back at Christine in disbelief.  
"It is over," Christine thought to herself. She knew that her only hope of ever escaping Erik and to ever know that both she and her belovèd would be safe from him, was to find Raoul and when the moment was right, to run away.  
Erik's face grew red with fury.  
"I didn't want to have to do this, Christine, but it would appear that you have left me no choice…"  
He grabbed her swiftly and firmly and shoved a handful of small, round, white pills into her mouth. Christine could feel her head spinning and her surroundings become an incomprehensible blur as she slowly drifted into an unconscious state of being.

It was a few minutes later when Erik went outside and knelt down before the lake. He looked down at his reflection in the water and sighed. He was not at all pleased with the half-formed face of a man which stared back at him, but what could he possibly do to fix it? H knew in his heart that it was the only thing keeping him and his belovèd Christine apart, no matter how many times she denied to him that it was true. If only he could just create a new face to wear rather than hiding behind some hideous mask… But alas, life was not all so simple as that. Ashamed of his own ugliness, he smacked at his terrible reflection with his hand and masked himself. The ripples spread slowly across the startled surface of the lake, and after they had finally reached the opposite shore, slowly the Siren began to rise from the inky waters. She saw Erik sitting there as a tear trickled down the cheek of his mask.  
"What could ever be the matter, dear Master?" she cooed softly.  
Erik looked up as she swam closer to him. He reached a soggy hand out of the water and gently placed it on his.  
"Oh, it's just you…," he said in a tired voice.  
"Yes, it is me, and I am here to make things feel all better. Now, tell me what is wrong, my belovèd Master."  
"Well… It's Christine… I don't know… It's just that… well… things between the two o us haven't exactly been peachy keen…"  
"Do tell me more, Master…"  
"Well… I had asked her about her trip to the surface and after a bit of prying found out that she had been spending a lot of time with her dear old friend, Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny. I spoke to her a bit more and found out that after a stroll though the park and a candle-lit dinner, they went over to his brother's mansion, shared a bottle of wine, got a bit tipsy, and in short, she ended up spending the night with him in his bed wearing nothing but a chemise and pantaloins…"  
"Oh my! And I thought that things were going so well between you and your hot young lady friend," she said with a sarcasm which he was unable to detect. "What ever could have gone wrong between the two of you?"  
"Well… Things between us just got a bit bitter this morning with me finding out about her little rendezvous and... well..."  
Unable to complete his sentence, he pulled the plain gold ring from his pocket.  
"Oh, Erik... Things like this happen all the time in relationships. Perhaps it is just not meant to be."  
"That's not the only thing though... When she gave me back the ring... well... I was upset and... perhaps I took things a bit far, but..."  
"Hush, dear," she said, stroking Erik's cheek gently. "I am sure that whatever it was, she completely deserved whatever it was that you did or said to her. Surely she will be healthy as a horse and on her way out in no time. You can do so much better than that lying, cheating wench..."  
Gently, she placed her soggy hand under his chin and slowly took away his black, silk mask to reveal the disfigured death's head that hid behind it. Erik tried to say something to her, but she hushed him and pressed a cold, bony finger to his should-have-been lips, then withdrew her finger and kissed him passionately. It was then, feeling the coldness of her heart pulsing through her veins like the eruption of some icy volcano, that Erik suddenly realized the truth of what had happened. Had she, the Siren, not said that 'she will be healthy as a horse and on her way out in no time'? He had not told her that Christine had fallen ill. She could not have possibly known unless... He pushed her away and stood angrily.  
"You had something to do with this, didn't you!" said Erik, fumbling to replace his mask.  
"Why, dear master," the Siren said coyly, "what ever could you be talking about? I have something to do with a great many things. You really should be more specific..."  
"I never told you anything about Christine having taken ill, so spit it out. What did you do to her!"  
"Oh, nothing really..."  
"Nothing! The woman that I love appears to be gravely ill. She is paler than a sheet, coughing up blood, has a high fever, and is too weak to even step a foot out of bed, and you have the audacity to claim that whatever it is that you did to her is 'nothing really'! Tell me exactly what you did to her and how to cure it this instant or I swear that there will be more fish than just the prawns I was planning on serving for dinner tonight."  
"All right, let us not be too hasty here and do something that we might both regret. If you must know, I slipped her a bit of poison last night when she was sitting out by the lake."  
"You did what!"  
"Relax. A bit of ordinary tonic should suppress the poison enough for her body to mend itself in a weeks time at the longest."  
"You had better hope for your sake that she makes a full recovery."  
"Oh, master, if something like that ever happened, then what possible reason could you have for getting rid of me?"  
With this comment, the Siren gave a flirtatious smirk and then swiftly swam away.

Erik stepped within the threshold of the house on the lake only to be immediately greeted by a fluffy, purring kitten rubbing against his foot, which he instinctively kicked away.  
"Hey, Erik," said Mina. "Where's Christine? I haven't seen her all day..."  
"Well... She seems to have... taken ill and... well... I was wondering if you could run into town for me and... well... pick up some tonic for her... I'm going to make sure that she's doing alright..."  
Mina stared after Erik as he gloomily headed for the Louis Philippe room. She had never seen him this worried before and she could not help but to wonder exactly how ill Christine really was.

It was a matter of minutes before Mina had made her way to the streets of Paris square and found a small drug store.  
"Can I help you?" asked the pharmacist as Mina walked through the front door.  
"Yes," she said, glancing around. "I'm looking for a tonic."  
"Then you've come to the right place," he replied. "What kind of tonic is it that you are looking for? A tonic to suppress coughs? A tonic for hair growth?..."  
"Actually," she interrupted, "I was just looking for a simple nightly children's tonic."  
"Oh, well then, here you are," he said, pulling a small bottle of thick, greenish liquid from one of the many medicine cabinets and handing it to Mina cautiously. "That will be three francs, please."  
Mina took out her change purse and pulled from it three one-franc coins, then handed them to the pharmacist. He took them from her and turned them over approvingly in his hand.  
"Will that be all for you then, Mademoiselle?"  
"Yes, thank you, sir," said Mina, making her way to the door.  
As Mina was making her way down the street back to the Palais Garnier, she passed by a small shoemaker's shop, and in its window sat a pair of little red shoes which reminded her of a story that Christine had told her on the train while they were on their way to Romania to see her friend, Dracula. It began like this:

Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing.  
Her hair was gold as the sun's rays and her soul  
as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her  
mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of  
her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle,  
but most of all loved, when she went to sleep,  
to hear the Angel of Music...

She had told Mina that her father used to tell her that story on the beach some evenings when she was very young and that she always though that Lotte was very lucky to hear the Angel of Music when she went to bed at night and that it was the story which first led her to believe in the Angel of Music, and that it was after this story that her father first made her the promise that, when he was dead, he would send to her the Angel of Music.  
Mina stared at those little red shoes in the window. The little red shoes of Little Lotte. She knew how close Christine had been to her father, and thought that perhaps a small gift to remind her of him could cheer her up in her time of illness.  
Mina stepped inside of the shoemaker's shop. It was ill lit and smelled of metal, leather, and shoe polish. There were shelves everywhere, stacked high with shoes of every size, colour, and variety. At the center was a middle-aged woman in a tarnished brown dress, writing down numbers in a sales book. She heard the door open as Mina entered and looked up from the book, smiling.  
"Henry," she shouted, "you have a customer here."  
Out of a nearby door came a bearded man with graying hair and a cane. He made his way to the counter and pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket, then proceeded to put them on. He smiled at Mina.  
"What can I do for you, Madame?" he asked in a husky voice.  
"I'd like to buy those red shoes in the window," said Mina.  
The man made his way over to the shop window and took the little red shoes from their resting place, then headed back over to where Mina stood and set them down on the counter before her.  
"That will be ten francs," he said.  
Mina pulled out her change purse dumped what coins were left into her hand, but there were only eight francs there. She looked at the shoemaker despairingly.  
"I seem to be a couple of francs short," she said.  
"Well, I'm sorry about that, Madame, but if I gave the shoes to you for any lower price, I wouldn't be making any profit..."  
"Don't worry, Mademoiselle," came the familiar voice of a man. "I'll cover the last couple of francs that you need..."  
Mina turned around to find Comte Philippe de Chagny standing before her. He took her hand and to it, pressed a friendly kiss. Mina blushed.  
"Philippe," she said shyly, "it has been a while..."  
"Too long if you ask me," he replied, chuckling and handing the shoemaker the last couple of coins needed. "Where have you been? I haven't seen or heard from you at all since we met at the masked ball."  
"Oh, I've been around..."  
"How have you been?"  
"I've been doing well. And you?"  
"I've had a few family issues recently, but other than that, things have been just fine."  
"Well... Thank you for helping me out just now."  
"It was no problem."  
"We should see eachother again sometime."  
"We should... Hey! Your birthday is on the thirty-first, correct?"  
"Yes."  
"Then come to my house that evening and I shall hold a ball in celebration of your eighteenth birthday."  
"Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to impose..."  
"Oh no, you won't be imposing at all. Feel free to invite your friends and relatives, and anyone else whom you please.  
"Thank you, Monsieur le Comte de Chagny. I shall see you then."  
"Goodbye, Mina."

It was about six thirty that evening when Mina finally returned to the house on the lake. She entered the Louis Philippe room and was touched by what she saw. Christine was fast asleep in her bed and Erik sat beside her, holding her hand and singing to her softly. On her finger was the gold wedding band. Erik seemed completely unaware of Mina's presence, so she gave a soft tap on the wall. Erik stopped singing, but did not turn to her.  
"What took you so long?" he asked, his voice quivering.  
"Sorry," she said. "I came back as soon as I could... Is she alright?"  
"She is for now. Hand me the tonic."  
Mina did as he said and after he had taken the bottle of tonic from her, Erik set it down on the Louis Philippe chest of drawers, and then gently shook Christine awake.  
"Christine," he said softly. "Christine, I have some medicine here for you. It's going to help you to get rid of this nasty cough that you have. Now, it's going to taste a bit bitter, but I need you to swallow it cooperatively. Can you do that for me?"  
Christine nodded and coughed a bit as Erik reached over onto the chest of drawers and picked up a spoon and the bottle of tonic. He poured the green, syrupy liquid into the spoon and turned back to Christine.  
"Now open up wide..."  
Christine opened her mouth and Erik quickly shoved the spoonful of tonic into her mouth. She made a face, but managed to swallow it. Erik saw her wincing and picked up the cup of tea that he had poured for her earlier that day.  
"Here," he said, handing her the cup. "It's cold by now, but perhaps it can help to wash a bit of the taste of the tonic out of your mouth."  
Christine took the cup from Erik and began to sip her several-hour-old tea. Slowly, Mina made her way closer to the side of the bed where Erik sat faithfully beside Christine. She cleared her throat and Christine turned to look at her.  
"Christine," said Mina, "while I was in town earlier today, I happened to see something that I thought that you might like in one of the shop windows and... well... this is for you.. I hope that it will be able to cheer you up a bit and perhaps help you to feel better."  
She handed Christine the box and Christine proceeded to open the box with great care. When she removed the lid, she saw the little red shoes and began to cry. Memories flooded her mind. She thought of all of the stories of Scandinavia which her father used to tell her as a little child. She thought of those nights that they used to spend together, laying close beside eachother on the straw when they were so poor in Sweden. She thought of the walks on the beach in Perros, singing and playing the violin together, and of that fateful day when there was the strong wind that blew her scarf out into the sea and how she first met Raoul as he shouted to her, "fear not; I shall fetch your scarf from the sea." She thought of the times when she and Raoul would sit on the beach at night and listen to her father's tales of the Angel of Music, and how Raoul would then, endearingly, call her "Little Lotte." She thought of the promise that her father had made to her and of that life-altering night when, all too soon, he was taken away from her. Both overwhelming joy and unendurable pain welled within her young heart all at once. She missed her father so much and yet those shoes, the shoes of Little Lotte, forced her to relive those memories and emotions which she had thought she had buried forever. Christine turned to Mina and faked a smile.  
"I thought that you would like them," said Mina, smiling triumphantly.  
Christine continued to smile as the two hugged, but the tears still welled in her eyes. Her father's death had been a thing of the past, but as she reflected on that picture of him in her head, lying there, cold and dead, she couldn't help but to wonder if perhaps she could have done something differently that might have been able to save her poor father's life.


	15. Chapter 15: Mina's Birthday

**Warning: This chapter is rated M for violence and adult themes. Please read this chapter through completely, as several parts of it will become extremely important later on, specifically in chapter 17**

* * *

_Chapter fifteen: Mina's Birthday_

It was the thirty-first of October when Christine and Mina stepped out of the cab in front of the Chagny estate. Mina was wearing a black gown embroidered with gold stitching and Christine wore a white gown with similar gold embroidery.  
"I cannot believe that you managed to convince Erik to allow me to come with you here, especially considering all that has gone on recently..."  
"It's the least that I could do. I'm just glad that you're feeling better now. Besides that, I know that Erik's been keeping you locked up in his house a lot since the last time he let you leave to go see your adopted mother. And I'm sure that handsome friend of yours will be happy to see you again..."  
Mina gave a coy grin and Christine bit her lip nervously.  
"Mina... I would actually prefer it if I did not have to see Raoul tonight. It is better to just forget about him. Besides, I was a fool to think that he and I could ever become closer than just friends. It is safer for everyone this way..."  
"Christine, you need to let go a bit. You don't always have to be a martyr, you know. Just relax; we're here to have fun" Now wipe that gloomy look off your face and let's go inside."  
Christine gave a half smile and the two headed toward the front door of the mansion. When the two stepped in, they seemed to enter another world altogether. All of high society Paris was there, laughing and dancing. Mina spotted Philippe.  
"Christine," she said, "I'm going to have to leave you now, but I'll be back later tonight when it's time for us to be going back to the house on the lake."  
With this, Mina rushed off to go meet Philippe. Silently, Christine made her way over to the library, for she remembered where it was from when Raoul had given her a tour of the house before. When she made it inside, she was happy to find that not another living, breathing soul was there. She sat down in one of the big arm chairs and heaved a sigh. Why had she agreed to come with Mina that night? She knew that Philippe did not want her there and that, after all that Raoul had said to her the last time that they were together, it was dangerous for him to be seen with her...  
As Christine pondered this thought, a hand came and tapped her shoulder and nearly startled her to the point of falling out of the chair where she was sitting. She turned around to see who had tapped her and, to both her pleasure and to her dismay, found Raoul staring at her.  
"Raoul! What are you doing here?"  
"Well, _I_ live here, of course. I believe that the more appropriate question to be asking at the moment is what are _you_ doing here?"  
"I came here with my friend, Mina. Apparently she has become rather strong acquaintances with your brother and he decided to throw a party in celebration of her birthday."  
"Well why are you in here then?" e asked, sitting down on the armrest of the chair and wrapping an arm around her. Christine shifted awkwardly.  
"To be honest," she said, "I was trying to avoid seeing you..."  
"Well, it would seem that I've found you nonetheless... You know, I feel that we should take the time to get... well... reacquainted with eachother. I know that we didn't exactly part on the best of terms and... well... it's been bothering me ever since. I just think that we need to spend a bit of... alone time together. Just the two of us."  
He leaned in to kiss her, but the door opened and a guest popped his head in.  
"Oops! Sorry," said the guest. "I was just looking for the bathroom..."  
"Go down the hallway and it's the first door on your left," said Raoul irritably. The guest left.  
"Come on," said Raoul, taking Christine's hand. Let's go somewhere a bit more private."

Philippe and Mina sat outside in the garden of the Chagny estate. Night had fallen and the only lights came from the windows of the house and from the glowing moon above.  
"So how do you like the party so far?" Philippe asked.  
"Oh, very much," said Mina. "You have a very lovely house..."  
"Yes. Lovely, but lonely. I don't usually get many visitors and in a few months, my younger brother will be going off to sea and it will be rather quiet around here... Look, Mina, I know that we haven't known eachother for very long and that this all may seem a bit sudden but... will you marry me?" he asked, getting on one knee. "We may have just met only a couple of months ago, but I feel that I have known you for much longer than that. You are the most beautiful woman that I have met in my entire life and every moment that I close my eyes, you are all that I can think about. Please, I would be honoured if you would choose to become Madame la Comtess de Chagny."  
Mina smiled and threw her arms around Philippe's neck.  
"Oh. Philippe," she swooned, "I thought that you would never ask. Of course I'll marry you..."

Meanwhile, Raoul and Christine had just gotten upstairs and Raoul pulled them into his room.  
"Raoul, why have you brought me here?"  
"Because... I know that you've missed me..."  
He inched toward her, undetected.  
"Raoul, I have told you; it is better for everyone if we just not see eachother again..."  
He slipped an arm around her waist and yet she still seemed to pay him no mind.  
"You know that's not what you really want," he said, brushing her cheek. "You enjoy our little rendezvous. It's all a sort of thrill to you. The forbidden love, the romantic dinners, the house of nobility... You enjoy it all. The wine on the balcony, the childhood reminiscence, the taste of a kiss..."  
He kissed her rapturously, but something seemed different. Something was not quite right. She tore herself away from him, trembling.  
"Who are you?" she stammered.  
"Christine, It is I, Raoul."  
"You are not Raoul..."  
The man, who appeared to be Raoul, had a sudden change in expression. He seemed both shocked and angry. He made slow advances toward Christine, his teeth clenched in anger, and just as slowly, she backed away from him.  
"We can do this one of two ways. Either you can be silent and make this go quickly, or if you decide to put up a fight, I'll have to be more brutal about it. For both of our sakes, I suggest that you choose the first option and make this brief and painless."  
"Who are you and what do you want with me?" she cried.  
"You know who I am. We met at the masked ball. I believe that your 'father' informed you of who I am. You should have been prudent and headed his warning..."  
Christine kept backing away from the imposter until the backs of her legs hit the bed and she fell into a sitting position. Howell immediately pinned her down and transformed back into the man whom she had seen at the masked ball. She wanted to cry for help, for surely someone in the house would hear her, but something about his cold gray eyes seemed to hypnotize her into being silent. She could feel herself growing weaker, as if all of her energy was being drained from her body. She could feel his cold hands on her flesh, one inching toward her right breast, the other sliding down her waist and pulling undone the knot of her corset. She tasted his tongue and lips as he rapturously kissed her lips, her neck, her shoulder... She felt those horrid hands undressing her. She felt the weight of his body on her own. A hand slid up her thigh. She felt his cold flesh on hers. And slowly, she could feel what little consciousness that still remained slipping away.

Raoul stood in the foyer of the Chagny mansion. He saw among the guests couples, young and old, dancing and talking, laughing and softly sighing. He could think of but one thing; his belovèd Christine. It had been such a long time since she had mysteriously gone away that he was beginning to grow worried about her. Staying with a strange unknown man... Something about the whole situation just didn't feel right to him. He made up his mind that, on the morning, he would go to visit Madame Valerius and inquire about Christine. So he made his way to the staircase to go up to bed.

When he came upon his door, he found that it was locked. He did not remember locking the door, but thought nothing of it as he took the key from his pocket. When he opened the door however, he was both shocked and enraged at what he saw. Christine was lying in his bed and a strange man was stooped over her, and this strange man had a sharpened dagger in his hand.  
"Leave her alone and get out of my house," Raoul protested with outrageous anger. He rushed at the man, who dropped his dagger and leapt from the window, quickly fleeing.  
Raoul rushed to Christine's side as soon as he was sure that the man was gone. He found her unconscious and clothed only in a chemise which ended a little above her knees. Her hair had been halfway unpinned and her lip was bruised and bleeding. Raoul's hand trembled as he brushed a bit of hair out of her face and gently and carefully took her up in his arms being sure to well support her head incase her neck had been injured as well. What kind of man would be so cruel as to do something like this to a woman; especially when she was a guest in a home that was not even his own? As Raoul looked down at Christine, a tear trickled down his cheek and landed on hers.  
"This is all my fault," he said to himself. "How could I have let something like this happen to you? I should have been there. I should have been able to protect you..."

Midnight came. By then, all of the guests had left. Raoul still sat there with the unconscious Christine. He looked at the clock, and then back at his belovèd. A few more minutes passed and finally, Christine began to stir. When she opened her eyes and saw Raoul there, she trembled and desperately tried to escape him, but alas, she was far too weak. She cried in terrified desperation.  
"Please do not hurt me," she cried. "Whatever it is that you want, you can have it. Please, Monsieur, I do not have much, but I am sure that whatever it is, I can get it to you. Just please, let me go, Monsieur."  
"Christine, what are you talking about? It is I, Raoul..."  
"No! No, you are not he! You are that imposter! Let me go, you monster!"  
She began violently thrashing about, and Raoul had to be careful to restrain her enough to prevent her from hurting herself without hurting her himself in the process.  
"Christine, just look at me. I'm not going to hurt you. Just look at me."  
He laid his hand on her cheek and managed to calm her enough to get her to make eye contact with him. Immediately, she recognized the boyish blue eyes that had charmed her as a child.  
"Raoul?" she whispered faintly.  
"Yes, Christine. It is I."  
The two embraced and Christine nestled herself on her old friend arms, continuing to cry softly.  
"Oh, Raoul... It really is you this time..."  
"Yes, Christine. It's alright. I'm here now."  
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped a bit of blood that trickled from the corner of her lip. He then proceeded to gently dry her tears and sponge her face with the tear-dampened rag. Christine closed her eyes and laid her head on Raoul's shoulder.  
"Who did this to you?" Raoul asked as his hand gently brushed the bruise on her lip. "Look, I promise that when I find the man who is responsible for this, I'll make him suffer a death ten thousand times as painful as what he put you through."  
"Oh, Raoul... I wish that you could... His name is Howell, but you will never find him, Raoul. He is far too clever. He is a sorcerer and can make himself look like any man that ever lived. That is how he fooled me..."  
"So that's why you were so terrified when you saw me. You thought that I was really him... We should really get you back to your mother's house..."  
"No, Raoul! He will find me there. I have to go back."  
"Back? Back to where?"  
"Back with..."  
She paused, afraid to finish her sentence.  
"Christine, you can't!"  
"It is the only place where I will be safe, Raoul... Oh, hold me, Raoul. Hold me. I am so frightened..."  
He hushed her gently.  
"It's alright, Christine. You're safe now. I promise that from this moment on, I'll never allow anything bad to happen to you ever again... You really should go back to your mother's house. It's late..."  
He looked in her eyes and saw that they were laden with terror. He couldn't cast her out like that; especially after all that she had just been through. He heaved a sigh.  
"I suppose that you could stay the night here and then when it is daylight out, we could go take you to your mother's. I'll be with you the whole time and you won't have to worry a bit about that horrid Howell."  
Christine smiled at him gratefully and clasped his hand lovingly.  
"Thank you, Raoul..."  
She kissed his cheek.  
"What was that for?" he asked.  
"For saving my life," she replied softly.  
"Oh. Well then please, thank me properly..."  
They kissed as if it were the last time that they would ever kiss again, and for all they knew, it very well could have been. With the mysterious occurrences between Christine and Erik, and that Raoul would be leaving in a few months time for his voyage to the North Pole, the couple did not know when the next time would be that they would see eachother. When they stopped, they just sat there in eachother's arms for a while. Christine began to cry again.  
"Christine, what's wrong?"  
"Nothing, she sobbed. I only with that this did not have to end..."  
He pressed her head to his heart and she listened to its gentle pounding and felt the rise and fall of his breathing against her cheek. His body and breath were both warm and comforting and so she closed her eyes and relaxed her muscles so as to better savour his embrace. She inhaled deeply. He smelled strongly of cologne mixed with just a hint of tobacco smoke, peppermint, and the saltiness of the sea. She was about to fall asleep right then and there, but Raoul gently shook her awake.  
"Try to stay up just a bit longer," he said. "We'll go talk to my brother about the situation and then you can have one of the guest rooms for tonight. Alright?"  
Christine nodded sleepily and the two stood. Raoul took a blanket from his bed and hung it on her shoulders. She pulled it tightly around herself both for warmth and for the sake of modesty. The two stood there for a brief moment, exchanging neither glance, nor word and, after a few brief moments of what seemed like hours to both of them in that state of awkward silence, Raoul cleared his throat.  
"We should really go inform my brother that you shall be staying the night..."  
"That is probably a good idea... But Raoul..."  
"Yes, Christine?  
"Are you absolutely positive that your brother will allow me to stay?"  
"Christine, I know that you and my brother are not exactly on the best of terms with eachother at the moment, but he does have a heart. I'm sure that if I explain to him what happened, he will understand the urgency of the situation and allow you to stay for just this one night..."  
"Alright then... If you are positive..."  
"Absolutely! Now come along. Let's find Philippe..."

It was not long before Raoul and Christine came upon the door of Philippe's study. Raoul was about to knock, but before he could, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted Philippe. The Comte looked at his brother, then at Christine, and then back at his brother.  
"Raoul," he said plainly, "What is this tramp doing in my house?"  
"She was here at the party, Philippe."  
"How? I do not recall having sent an invitation for her to come..."  
"I came in the company of Mademoiselle Harker, Monsieur le Comte de Chagny," said the girl in a voice that was as soft as the coo of a dove.  
"Then why are you not gone! Do you have any idea as to what time it is?"  
"Monsieur, I..."  
Raoul pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.  
"It's not her fault, Philippe. Some monstrous excuse for a man raped and nearly killed her at _your_ party, and therefore _you_ ought to do something about it. All that I ask is that you allow her to spend the night here where we can _both_ keep an eye on her to make sure that she's safe."  
"Alright," he said, "she can stay the night. But remember that she is your responsibility and I will not be held accountable should anything happen to her through the night. Do I make myself clear?"  
"Crystal. Which room shall she say in?"  
"How am I to know? She's _your_ problem now. _You_ figure it out."  
And with that, Philippe stormed off.  
Later, upon returning to Raoul's chambers, Christine tossed the blanket aside and sat upon the bed.  
"I suppose that I shall be spending the night here with you..."  
Raoul chuckled.  
"I suppose you shall be. Sorry about all of the guest rooms being locked.  
"It is fine..."  
He chuckled a bit more, but stopped and stared at her as she began to unpin her hair. He stared, seemingly entranced by the sight of her. Her soft, slender thighs, her lily-white neck and shoulders. The was that the light of the gas jets hit her just right so that, through her thin lace chemise, he could see the arch of her back, the curve of her waist, the two domes that were her breasts... His mouth watered at the sight of her as he slowly changed into his nightclothes. He turned away, trying not to think of her, but she came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and looked into her bright, blue eyes.  
"Are you sure that it is alright if I stay the night here? If it is making you too uncomfortable, I can leave..."  
"No, no," Raoul stammered. "Not at all. It's just that... I... well...you... you look... very lovely this evening."  
He tried to look away from her and Christine laughed at his nervous boyishness.  
"Raoul, it is alright. Just think of it as like that night which I spent with you and your aunt when we were children... only we are older now... and your overprotective aunt is not here... and... hmm... I suppose that it is just a bit on the awkward side... Raoul, like I said before, if this makes you uncomfortable, I can leave..."  
"No, no... it's fine, really. Goodnight, Christine," he said , and he kissed her gently.  
She smiled at him and returned the favour, then made her way back to the bed and comfortably laid down her head.

Back at the house on the lake, Erik paced about impatiently. What was taking those two so long? They should have been back well before midnight. He upbraided himself for having been so foolish as to let Christine go to that horrid fop's house with Mina. A man of such stature as he could never truly love her. All that fop wanted was a pretty girl who could easily be wooed. A vicomte could never be able to fully appreciate her the way that he would. Erik knew that Christine would get herself into trouble out there, all alone in the world. One thing calmed his mind though, and that was knowing that she was with Mina. Surely Mina would not allow anything so terrible to happen to her. Relieved by this thought, Erik sat down in a chair, quietly waiting for the door to open and for his little Christine to cheerfully make her entrance. The door opened, but only Mina entered the house on the lake. Erik could sense that something was not right.  
"Where's Christine?" he asked uneasily.  
"She's not here with you? I didn't see her at all during the second half of the party so, naturally, I assumed that she had already come back here with you."  
"I told you not to let her out of your sight!"  
"Erik, she's old enough to be able to take care of herself at a party without having to be babysat by a chaperone the whole time."  
Erik groaned, then grabbed his coat and headed for the door.  
"Where are you going?" asked Mina.  
"To find Christine."  
"Erik, I'm sure that she's fine. She probably just went to go visit her mother..."  
"Not without my permission, she didn't!"  
"Erik, you can't keep her under lock and key forever..."  
"Just watch me!..."

Back at the Chagny estate, all was peaceful. Everyone in the house was sound asleep... That is, all but Christine, who lay there silently, gazing up at the ceiling, as if some divine force prevented her from rest. She glanced over at Raoul, who was snoring beside her, and smiled. She kissed his cheek lightly.  
Suddenly, there was a small sound at the window, which caused Christine to jump. She sat up and saw that the door to the balcony had swung open. The child became curious, and so she stood and slowly made her way over to the balcony.  
When she got there, she stood on the balcony and looked out at the night around her. The fall air had a biting cold to it and Christine shivered.  
"Hello?" she said in a trembling voice. "Is there anyone here?"  
She waited for a few moments, but heard ne response and saw no one outside of the house. Finally, she decided that there was no one there and turned around to go back inside. No sooner had she turned than a black shadow of a man leapt in front of her and grabbed her 'round the waist. Christine was terrified and tried to cry out to Raoul for help, but he hand of the shadow man clasped itself firmly over her mouth. She struggled in vain to escape from the man's grasp, but alas, he was much too strong and yet held her fast within his could, deathly grasp. Finally, she fainted away.

It was sunrise and Raoul stretched as he awoke.  
"Bonjour, mon petit chou..."  
He leaned over to kiss Christine good morning, but found that she was missing. He looked around in confusion and saw that the balcony door was wide open.  
"Oh God..." he breathed. "Please no..."  
His heart sank, for fear of what might have happened. He rushed onto the balcony and looked about, but saw no one. Tears welled in his eyes, and as he continued to search for any trace of her, he caught sight of a small piece of paper stuck in a crack on the wall and fluttering in the breeze. He pulled it out with a trembling hand, carefully unfolded it, and was mortified by the blood-red words which appeared before him.

_Monsieur,  
__If you value your life, you would be prudent not to keep my pupil from me and never to address her again, or it may prove fatal to both of you health.  
__-The Angel of Music_


	16. Chapter 16: Trick of the Shadows

**This chapter can get a bit confusing if I don't explain the shift in point of view here. In this chapter, the point of view switches briefly from third person omnicient to the first person. The portion written in the first person is from Christine's point of view in her dream. There are also a couple of terms which need to be explained. Specifically "La Toussaint" This is French for "All Saints day." It is tradition for the French to go on La Toussaint to leave carnations on the graves of the departed. The carnation is representative of death in the French culture, so if you're a guy who wants to go hook up with a French chick, a word of advice: don't give her a bouquet of carnations...**

* * *

_Chapter sixteen: Trick of the Shadows_

It was mid-day, the first of November. Christine awoke to find herself lying in the bed of the Louis-Philippe room, not having the slightest idea as to how she could have possibly gotten there. Perhaps she had been there all along. Perhaps everything which she thought had happened the night before was all just a dream. But she sat up and found that her wrist had been shackled to one of the bedposts. It was only a prop from one of the operas, but it proved strong enough that she could not free herself on her own. At this moment, Erik entered the room and Christine shot him a glare that could have burned through his soul had he had one.  
"Hello there, 'mon chou'..." he said in a slight hiss.  
"Erik, I demand that you release me at once!"  
"Why? So that you can go betray me again?"  
"Betray you! Erik, how on Earth could I have possible betrayed you in order to make myself deserve to be chained to my bed?"  
"Perhaps it could have something to do with the fact that when you didn't come back last night after the party, I went out looking for you only to find you half naked and lying in the bed of a viscount..."  
"Is that what this whole thing is about? Erik, it was not at all what you think..."  
"I don't care what you may claim it was. Until I have determined that you have reproved yourself trustworthy, you are not to leave this spot."  
"Erik, this is ridiculous! You cannot possibly expect to keep me here, chained to a bedpost!..."  
"I can and do! I figure that two weeks of confinement to your room and another month and a half confined to this house should teach you to behave yourself when I turn my back!"  
"But Erik, it is La Toussaint. You promised me that I could go to visit my father's grave. And besides that, two weeks confined to this room followed by a month and a half confined to this house is two months! Mamma will be worried about me, and I will be stuck down here for the entire Christmas season. You said that I could have the season for myself and that I would be able to visit friends and family during the time..."  
"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to stab me in the back!"  
"Erik, have you gone completely mad!"  
"You know, Christine, if you would really like to be free, there is one other way that I might be willing to let you go..."  
"And what way is that?" asked Christine softly and after slight hesitation.  
Erik pulled from his coat pocket the plain gold ring which he had given to her previously, then knelt down before her.  
"Wear this ring, Christine, and please, atleast contemplate the possibility of marrying me."  
Christine thought hard for a moment, and then took the ring from Erik and placed it upon her finger.  
"I will wear your ring if only to appease you," she said coolly, "but that does not mean that I will marry you. Do I make myself clear?"  
"Yes, Christine. That is all I needed. And who knows, perhaps with time, you shall change your mind about marriage," he said as he took a key from his pocket and undid the shackles which held her.  
"I highly doubt that much," she said with a heaving sigh. "Well, now that all of that is over, may I please go to Perros in order to visit my father's grave like you promised me that I could?"  
Erik heaved a sigh.  
"Not today, I'm afraid. But I do promise you that next week, we shall go together to Perros and then you may go visit your father's grave. Is that alright?"  
"I suppose..."  
It wasn't really all right to Christine, but what other choice did she have? After all, it was Erik who was the one making all of the rules. If she refused this offer, then who knew when the next opportunity would be for her to go and see her father's gravesite? Erik sat down beside her and placed an arm around her.  
"I really am curious though, Christine. Why did you not come home last night?"  
"Well... during the party last night, a man who at first appeared to be Monsieur de Chagny came up to me in the library and engaged me in conversation, but other guests kept coming in and interrupting us, so _he_ suggested that we go a bit more private. And so, we went upstairs to his room. I tried to tell him that it was better for us to end any relationships between the two of us, but he was deaf to my words and kept making advances toward me until he kissed me and I realized that it was infact not Ra– I mean... Monsieur de Chagny at all, but infact it was Howell. I tried to call for help, but his spell had already begun to work its pox upon me. I became intoxicated by it, fell unconscious and was at the mercy of his desires. I have no doubt in my mind that the only reason that I am alive right now and able to tell you this is because of Monsieur de Chagny, for the next thing that I remember is opening my eyes in the arms of the true Vicomte de Chagny. I was at first terrified because I was not sure whether or not to believe that it was really him, but slowly, he proved to me that he was infact, the real Monsieur de Chagny. I was so happy to finally be safe in the arms of a friend after such an encounter. He had offered to take me home to Mamma Valerius, but I was so terrified that Howell might find me again there, so he then offered to allow me to stay there in his brother's house for the night. I accepted, of course, feeling much safer with a man there who would be able to protect me should Howell choose to return. Nothing scandalous happened between the two of us, I assure you. I was just frightened and did not know what else to do... I am truly sorry about how things turned out and I know what it must have seemed like to you, but I swear that nothing went on last might between Monsieur de Chagny and I, and I apologize for having caused you so much worry... Now what do you say? Are we on terms with eachother again?"  
"Of course we are, my angel..."  
Christine blushed. Though she didn't like to admit it, Erik did, at times, have a certain charm about him that was seemingly unsurpassed by any other man that she knew. He may not have been the most handsome of men, but he sure did know how to stir feelings in a lady. As she looked at him longer and longer though, he began to seem not all that bad. His dark mysterious eyes, his toned muscular body, his broad chest and shoulders... She turned away, an even darker rouge in her cheeks, trying to stop herself from thinking of such things. After all, Erik was Erik and nothing more. That was that.

I stood in the small clearing of a mountain path in my home of Scandinavia. I had not been there since I was only a child. In the valley below, I could see the little village of Tierp where I was born. I saw the little church where Father used to sing and play. I saw the little house where my mother took her last breath. It all seemed so peaceful. Since it was November, the snow was heavy, but not yet to the point where it would have made it nearly impossible for travel.  
I tripped lightly, continuing along the path until I reached a dense forest. Though it was just a bit passed noon, night had fallen, as it does in such reasons as this. The moon was new and the night was very cold and dark. I shivered as I continued my ascent through the sylvan evergreens.  
It was not long before I reached a steep and rugged mountain pass with the sheer drop of a cliff on one side of me. I am not afraid of hights, but I could not calm my nerves while trying to cross such a path. I inched slowly, making certain to remain as close as I possibly could to the walled side of the narrow path.  
It was then that I heard the loud cry of a bird in the distance. I looked about, and yet I saw no signs of any bird. All that I could see for miles and miles around were stars. And I noticed that one star in particular seemed to be growing larger and larger. It was growing closer and closer. And as it became closer, it began to take on a more distinguishable form. It looked like a large bird. It had a body and wings of flames. A fiery bird; a phoenix. It was massive and magnificent. I watched, awestricken, as it grew closer and closer to me. It had eyes as red as a demon's, a beak as pointed as a sword, and sharp talons that were as long as I am tall. I could feel its searing heat as it grew closer and closer, and again, it let out its mighty cry. I trembled, for such a bird did not appear to be the most pleasant of creatures to meet alone on a night such as this one. I quickened my pace, but alas, it was in vain, for the monster continued its rapid descent toward me. In an act of utter desperation, I flung myself upon the wall, hoping to find some shelter, some security. Yet I still felt a sharp pain as those deathly talons tore away at my flesh...

Erik shot awake at the sound of a blood-curdling scream. He raced through the house, frantically searching for the source of the scream until he came upon the Louis Philippe room. He lit the gas only to find Christine lying there, trembling and in tears. The once white sheets of her bed were soaked through and stained with blood.  
"Christine! Christine, what happened!  
"I do not know," cried the poor girl.  
Erik carefully helped her to sit up, only to find a huge gash that ran diagonally across her entire back, her skin singed and smoking with the back of her nightgown falling away in charred pieces. He touched it lightly and Christine again gave a cry of pain.  
"Hold still," said Erik. I'll go get the bandages and a damp cloth."  
It was a matter of mere moments before he came rushing back into the Louis Philippe room carrying with him the materials which he had previously gone to find. Hurriedly, he made his way over to Christine and, without even the slightest thought or hesitation, began sponging her back with the damp cloth. Christine, of course, cried out again in pain.  
"Erik, stop! You are hurting me," she said tearfully.  
"Christine, I'm only trying to help you..."  
"Please, Erik, you have done enough. I appreciate your concern, but it stings when you keep touching it like that."  
"Well maybe if you would just hold still and tell me what happened, I'd be able to better know exactly what it is that I'm dealing with and it might not hurt so much."  
"That is just it! I do not know what happened to me. I was dreaming and I saw a large phoenix coming at me and then the next thing I knew, I was lying in bed and the dream was real... Oh Erik, I am so frightened..."  
Erik bit his lip. He knew what had happened, but who was he to tell her that the same sorcerer who had come after her at the party had tried coming after her in her sleep as well? He finished sponging her back and then opened a small pouch which he had brought with him.  
"What is that?" asked Christine, having caught sight of the pouch out of the corner of her eye.  
"This? Oh, it's just some herbs – an old Indian remedy I learned during my days in Mazenderan. It will numb the pain and help your wounds to heal quicker and more completely.  
He rubbed the greenish powder gently onto the pale flesh of her delicate frame. He could feel her body tremble beneath his touch, and so he stopped rubbing, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on her slender shoulder.  
"Don't worry," he said in a tone as soft and sweet as an angel's. "I won't let anything else like this happen to you ever again. You're safe and I shall be your protector. Like I told you before, Christine; that ring on your finger is a symbol of your freedom. As long as you wear it, you will be protected from all harm and Erik will remain your friend. Christine, dear, I am a man of my word and, trust me, as long as I am still here on this Earth, I shall protect you. Do you understand?"  
He waited for her response, but then realized that she had fallen asleep, there in his arms. He smiled softly and the two stayed like that for the rest of the night.


	17. Chapter 17: Chandelier Chaos

**Warning: This could possibly be the longest chapter in existence even though I had to shorten it because I lost my original manuscript. There are a couple things i need to define and explain however. Anvers-Pigalle is the red light district of Paris. I guess you could sayy that this chapter would be rated M then for adult themmes, but this particular one is not too bad... As always, if you need a translation for the French, I'd be more than happy to give it. Only the 1 part of the quotations from Faust is in the original French, and I chose to do so for that particular phrase because well... The Engligh just doesn't have the same poetic nature... I hope that you have enjoyed everything that you have read so far, and hope that you will keep an eye out for chapter 18, which is coming soon.**

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_Chapter Seventeen: Chandelier Chaos_

It was just after the beginning of the New Year, about mid January. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the managers of the Palais Garnier, had pretty much given up on Christine Daaé returning to the Opera. Other than constantly being mentioned in a series of curious letters sent to them by the supposèd "Opera Ghost", she had seemed to have completely vanished from existence. That was, until that morning when they received this strange letter:

My Dear Managers,  
I have sent Christine Daaé back to you, as I feel that she is once again capable of performing with your pitiful excuse for a cast, though you are quite undeserving of her talents. She is to play the role of Marguerite in tomorrow evening's production of _Faust._ Never mind Madame Carlotta, who will be quite ill tomorrow, I assure you. Also, I must take this time to inform you that my salary is past due and, as of right now, you still owe me my monthly allowance of twenty-thousand francs from the month of December.  
-O.G.

"Past due?" exclaimed the puzzled Monsieur Moncharmin. "I thought that you sent off the payment just after Christmas."  
"I told you, Armand," Monsieur Richard replied dryly, "I'm not sending off money to our hoax of a ghost. There is absolutely no reason why we should be obligated to send off money to some disembodied spirit who supposedly 'haunts' the Opera."  
"But Firmin, what about the warnings that we received when we first took over management? The ghost told us that if we failed to comply with his requests, he would be forced to take action against us and a terrible curse would fall upon the house."  
"Don't you get it, you fool! There is no Opera Ghost. It's all some scam to con us out of our money."  
"Well then why do the letters keep mentioning Mademoiselle Daaé?"  
"How am I to know? After all, I'm no ghost, so how would I know to think like one?"  
"But didn't you just say that there's no such thing as..."  
"Oh, hush, Armand! Send a letter inquiring upon Madame Carlotta's health. If she is absolutely unable to perform, then so be it, we'll cast Mademoiselle Daaé, but I highly doubt that La Carlotta is ill. If we are ever to get rid of this little 'ghost' problem of ours, then we must first show him that _we _are in charge of this Opera and that we shall run things here _as we please._ I hereby declare that from this moment on, any orders made by the Opera Ghost shall be ignored and that any harassment which he might make against us will be reported to the authorities and severely punished to the fullest extent of the law. Now get Rémy in here at once and send off that letter!"

About an hour later, in the house of Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, the diva sat in bed, gluttonously indulging herself in a box of Belgian chocolates. Gigi, her black curly-furred toy poodle with the red ribbons in its fur, sat curled up at her side. She remained like this, undisturbed, until there came a tap at the door and a young blonde maid walked in."  
"Margaux, what are you doing here?" squawked the Spanish Diva.  
"I just came to bring you your mail, Madame..."  
She walked up to La Carlotta, carrying the envelopes, and the soulless diva snatched them out of the young girl's hands. As Margaux hurriedly exited the room, being sure to close the door behind her, Madame Carlotta ripped open one of the envelopes and began to read the letter inside.

Madame Giudicelli,  
Tomorrow, you will be very ill. Do not even think of coming to the Opera tomorrow evening, or else a terrible misfortune will fall upon you; a misfortune worse than death.

The letter was not signed, but was written rather curiously in a childish hand and in a deep red ink. The diva, however, merely shrugged her shoulders and tossed the letter aside, thinking nothing of it. Surely it was just some plot organized by her rival, Christine Daaé, and Daaé's supporters. Well, no little threat was going to stop the most popular diva in all of France from missing her appointment in the limelight. If Daaé wanted to play dirty, then two could play at that game.  
She got up, walked over to her desk, and began to write. She wrote letters of rumours about Daaé to the press: reasons why Daaé had been gone for so long, the scandal between her and Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny, her attempts to blackmail the great prima donna into losing her career... She then preceded to write a series of letters to her many supporters, telling them to be sure to fill the house that evening and to greatly applaud her work, while viciously rejecting that of Mademoiselle Christine Daaé. When she was finished, the vain diva gave a snicker.  
"We will see, Christine Daaé," she hissed. "We will see who is prima donna tonight."

Meanwhile, there came a knock at the front door of the house of Signora Carlotta Giudicelli. Margaux answered the door to find Rémy standing there, nearly out of breath.  
"Monsieur," she gasped, "what brings you here?"  
"I have been sent by Messieurs les administrateurs Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin to inquire upon your Mistress' health."  
"Her health? Well, she has seemed to be just fine lately. She has shown no signs of strange health..."  
"Will she be able to perform tomorrow evening?"  
"I have to doubt of it..."  
"Very well then. Thank you, Mademoiselle. That is all of the information that I needed. Good day to you."  
"Good day to you too, Monsieur..."  
Margaux closed the door, slightly puzzled at the questions which the managers' secretary had asked her. She thought, for a moment, of telling La Carlotta of the strange inquiry, but after a bit of debate, decided against doing so, as it seemed highly unimportant at the time.

The next morning, Raoul sat at the dining room table of the Chagny mansion, moving his fork slowly, back and forth, through a goopy yellow and brown pile of what was once bacon, eggs, and a piece of buttered toast. Across from him, sat Comte Philippe de Chagny, reading the daily _Époque.  
_"Is everything alright?" asked Philippe, glancing up from his paper. "You haven't even touched your breakfast."  
"I'm fine," Raoul lied. He wasn't really fine. He was worried about Christine. He hadn't seen or heard from her since that night at the party when she had been attacked. He had gone to visit Madame Valerius during the months of November and December, but the old dame had neither seen nor heard from her daughter, yet insisted that she was safe and with her Angel of Music. This was a bitter thought for Raoul. He still had the letter which the so-called 'Angel of Music' had left for him the night that Christine had disappeared. Surely no such 'angel' would leave such a note for him. Whatever had carried Christine away that night was, no doubt, a demon. Raoul shook his head in despair. He knew that the girl's enduring innocence knew no such suspicion as to even begin to comprehend the potential danger that she was in. Raoul did not want to see his dear friend and lover hurt or possibly killed by some beast of a man who preyed on innocent young women who were far to naïve to defend themselves. No, he refused to let this happen. The only way that he could save her was to marry her and run away together to some far off land where this demonic angel could not find them. Raoul had made up his mind. The next time that he saw Christine, he would carry her away, for her own protection, from her Angel of Music.  
"Raoul, do you know anything about this?" asked Philippe, interrupting Raoul's thoughts and slamming the newspaper down in front of him Raoul read silently the article which Philippe had laid before him.

**WHERE DAAÉ HAS REALLY BEEN**

Throughout the past few months, many of our readers have been wondering about the location of young soprano Christine Daaé, who nearly completely vanished from public after her triumphant performance at the Palais Garnier last August. Though she has announced that she shall return to sing this evening in _Faust,_ the burning question still remains. We now have expert sources who claim to have expert sources who claim to have an answer for the much asked question, "Where has Mlle Daaé been all this time?" Our sources have confirmed the rumour that has long been subject to belief: with the Vicomte de Chagny. Witnesses claim to have seen the couple walking together in the Bois de Boulogne, eating lunch at the Café de La Roche, and during various rendez-vous at the young prima donna's home, in her dressing room, and even at the Chagny estate where, at a party in late October, they were seen together on numerous rather questionable occasions. One witness, who was a guest at this party, reports walking into the library to find Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny and Mademoiselle Christine Daaé locked in embrace. The same witness also reported seeing the couple retreat upstairs that same evening and not come back down for the rest of the night. This leads us to our next big question to be answered: Why has Mademoiselle Daaé avoided being seen in public recently? Many rumours suggest that the reason could be that she is carrying the child of the Vicomte. This more recent rumour, however, has yet to be confirmed, but when evidence is found, you can be sure that the _Époque _will be the first to let Paris know.

Raoul shook his head in both shock and confusion. Though he did recall that day that they had spent together where they had taken the walks through the park and through the Opera and had eaten at the Café de La Roche, and recalled the time that the couple had spent together at the Chagny mansion and at her apartment, he had no idea of where anyone could have gotten the bit about them in the library. He did not even recall such an event happening. And what of that last bit about Christine being with child? Raoul firmly believed that such a rumour was in no way true, and yet a hint of doubt remained in the back of his mind. Could it be possible? Could this be why Christine had hidden herself and refused to see Raoul? Could it be that it was not at all the Angel of Music preventing them from being together, but instead Christine's own choice out of fear?  
"I... I don't know," Raoul finally stammered.  
"You must know something," said Philippe bitterly. "After all, I was able to confirm much of this story with my own knowledge of what has gone on between you and that opera-slut. She should be performing at the Moulin Rouge; not the Palais Garnier..."  
"Philippe, don't say that about her. Mademoiselle Daaé is one of the purest, kindest young women I have ever has the pleasure of meeting in my entire lifetime. You know as well as I that the newspapers make up rumours like this just to continue to hold the interest of their readers. There is little if any fact behind any of it."  
"What of that last bit though? Is there any fact behind _that_? Is Mademoiselle Daaé, whom you claim to be so pure, really carrying your child?"  
Raoul bit his lip.  
"I'm not sure..."  
"You're not sure? How can you not be sure?"  
"I don't know, Philippe!... We should go tonight..."  
"Go? Go where?"  
"To the Opera. It says that she plans to return for tonight's performance. If any such rumour is true, she will tell me..."

Around the same time, at the Palais Garnier, Christine and Erik stepped through the mirror and into Christine's dressing room.  
"Erik, are you sure that I am ready? After all, it has been such a long time since the last time that I performed..."  
"You'll be fine, Christine. I'm sure you'll play an excellent Marguerite tonight."  
"Marguerite? But, Erik, Marguerite is La Carlotta's role..."  
"Not tonight it isn't. Tonight, my dear, you shall once again triumph. As to the Carlotta problem, I have taken care of that personally.. And while it is on my mind..."  
Erik reached inside of his jacket and pulled out a deep red rose. He held it out to Christine.  
"Here," he said. "A flower for a flower."  
Christine blushed as she took the rose from him and vainly tried to hide a smile. Erik took her other little gloved hand and pressed a kiss to it.  
"Bon chance, ma chérie..."  
They gazed into each other's eyes for a few brief moments and then Christine turned away, blushing.  
"I should probably start getting ready," she said, beginning to make her way to the other side of the room.  
Erik just smiled at her and then took out the newspaper that he had bought earlier on in the day, sat down at the small table, and began to read. As he read though, his smile quickly began to fade until finally, a very distinct bitterness came about him.  
"Christine," he said dryly, "may I have a word with you?"  
"Why, of course, Erik," said Christine, rising from her seat at the vanity. "What is it that you would like to know?"  
"May I ask you a question?"  
"Of course you may."  
"Are you, by any chance... with child?"  
"With child! Why, most certainly not! Erik, where in Heaven's name would you get a crazy idea like that?"  
"Oh, I don't know," said Erik, sarcastically. "It could be the fact that printed in today's edition of the _Époque,_ there is an article confirming public suspicions of the affair between you and Monsieur de Chagny and also stating a rumour that you are currently carrying his child."  
"That is the most preposterous thing that I have heard of in my entire life!"  
"Is it? Considering how I found the two of you the last time that you were together, it does not, in any way, sound out of reason."  
"Erik, I have practically been _living_ with you for the past four months. Do you not think that if such a thing were true, you would have noticed by now?"  
"It would be possible for you to have kept it hidden from me for this long."  
"Erik, I cannot believe that you are doubting me like this. I thought that you trusted me. I am offended that not only would you believe such a terrible lie, but that you would then go on to disown me when I try to tell you the truth. Erik, if you are going to treat me like this, then I..."  
"Christine, don't test me right now! We will discuss this _after_ the performance tonight."  
With this, Erik touched the glass of the mirror and vanished.  
Christine sat back down at her vanity and began to sob. Who would be so horrible as to start a rumour like that? Why would anyone even want to do such a thing? A rumour like this, even though there was no truth behind it, could ruin her! If Erik of all people had already begun to believe it and to shun her then... Why was someone trying to ruin her like this? Then it occurred to her. Perhaps whoever it was was trying to pressure her into marriage to avoid people thinking that she was going to have a child out of wedlock. Perhaps it was in fact Raoul himself who was trying to ruin her for rejecting his marriage proposals. Either she could marry him or live in shame for the rest of her life. She just couldn't see Raoul doing something like that to her though. Christine glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, heaved a distraught sigh, buried her head again, and continued to sob.

It was about two hours before the evening gala. Raoul was backstage trying to find Christine. He wanted to ask her about the article in that morning's paper. Could what they have said possibly be true? Would he soon become a father? Why had Christine been hiding something like this from him? Why would she have told anyone else about such a thing before she told him?  
After several minutes, he finally spotted her walking down one of the many corridors and headed in his general direction.  
"Christine!" he called.  
She looked up and saw Raoul on the opposite end of the corridor, but instead of smiling upon him as he would have hoped, she shook her head in frustration, turned away from him, and briskly began to walk in the direction of her dressing-room. The slightly confused Raoul, of course, rushed after her, pushing his way past chorus member after chorus member, until finally, he caught hold of her wrist just as she was stepping into her dressing room.  
"Let me go, Raoul," she said bitterly.  
"Christine, I just want to talk to you..."  
"You have some nerve coming here after all that you have done, only to say 'Oh, Christine, I just want to talk to you.'"  
"Christine..."  
"No! Listen to me, Raoul. I do not know what could have possibly provoked you to make up rumours like that about me, but it needs to stop! Being a man, you may not realize just how much gossip can ruin someone's life."  
"Christine, what I have to say is important..."  
"I do not care, Raoul! If my company is so important to you, then perhaps you should have thought of that before you told all of Paris that I was carrying your child!"  
"That is just what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to ask you if such a thing were true. Are you with child, Christine?"  
"Of course not! Raoul, do I look to you as if I am with child?"  
"Christine, I didn't mean it like that..."  
"Then how did you mean it?"  
"I just saw that article in the gossip section of _l'Époque _this morning and began to wonder if that was why I hadn't heard from you in such a long time."  
"You mean, you were not the one who started such a crazy rumour?"  
"Of course not! Christine, even if such a thing were true, why would I go and tell the world without your permission. Philippe nearly killed me when he saw that article."  
"Well, if you did not start it, then who did?"  
"I don't know..."  
The two were silent there for a moment. Then, Christine began to cry softly.  
"What is the matter?" asked Raoul.  
"Nothing will ever be the same again..."  
"How do you mean?"  
"The damage has already been done Raoul. It cannot be fixed."  
"Christine, don't worry we'll get this whole thing straightened out with the press..."  
"It is not that, it is _him_! Raoul, you know first hand how protective he is of me. When he saw that article this morning, he was outraged. I tried to tell him that there was no truth behind it, but he refused to believe me. Raoul, I am so frightened. This whole ordeal cannot possibly end well..."  
"Christine, you mustn't assume the worst! What exactly did he tell you about it?"  
"He told me that we would further discuss the situation _after_ the opera."  
"Then wait until then. Perhaps something will turn up to prove the falsehood of the claim. Now cheer up. I came here tonight specifically to hear you sing, and I expect to get my money's worth before I leave."  
"Before you leave? What do you mean?"  
"Didn't you know? I'm only here in Paris for another month. Then, I shall be leaving on a voyage to the North Pole."  
"To the North Pole? But Raoul, why so far? It could be dangerous..."  
"Christine, Christine... You worry far too much."  
He smiled and kissed her, then went away, leaving her there, alone in the corridor. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she did worry too much. But then again, she had so much to be worried about. Erik was in no temperament for her to go without worry; worry for Raoul, for herself, for the managers for disregarding his casting requests... As she had already dressed for the night, she went off backstage. Erik always waited for her there, behind the scenes, and perhaps if only she could talk to him, she could prove to him that there wasn't any scandal behind her friendship with the Vicomte de Chagny, but that particular night, Erik was nowhere to be found. Christine sat alone in the darkness of the wings, behind a set piece for the evening's performance and began to cry again. How could anyone possibly be so cruel as to start a rumour like that? Even if Erik did eventually come to forgive her, she would never be looked at the same way in the public eye ever again. She sighed.  
"Christine?" came a small voice from behind her. Christine turned around to find Meg Giry standing there.  
"Oh... It is just you, Meg..."  
"Christine, what's wrong? It's been such a long time since you sang here at the opera... I thought that you would be happy to be back..."  
Meg sat down beside her.  
"I was happy Meg but... Someone has done something terrible, and I fear that I am going to have to suffer for it for the rest of my life... There was an article today in the gossip section of _l'__É__poque_... It said that I was expecting and that the father was Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny..."  
"Christine, are you really going to have a baby?"  
"Of course not! That is the problem. All of Paris now thinks that I am some opera-slut who was fooling around with a respected member of Parisian high-society! Where is your mother? I need to speak to her at once! I need her to deliver a message from me to the Opera Ghost..."  
"Mother was fired only a couple of days ago..."  
"What? But for what reason?"  
"Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin relieved her of her duties as keeper of box five, on accounts that she was repeatedly breaking the rules of the administration."  
"But that is preposterous! Mame Giry is one of the most trustworthy people I have ever known!"  
"I know. They've already replaced her. The woman who is supposed to be succeeding her in her duties in going to be in the audience tonight."  
"Oh, this is worse than I thought..."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean that surely the Opera Ghost will not stand for it when he discovers that, on top of having his instructions about the casting tonight ignored, his personal box keeper has been fired."  
"Not only that, but the managers have decided to sit in box five this evening to watch the performance..."  
Christine shakes her head in worried frustration.  
"I cannot stand it any more! I simply cannot stand it!..."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Something is going to happen tonight, I just know it! And it will all be my fault..."  
"Christine, Christine, none of this is your fault. You're not the one who started any rumour, you're not the one who fired my mother, and you are not the one who made the decision in casting..."  
"I know Meg, but nevertheless I feel guilty for it all. What can I possibly do?"  
Meg put a hand on Christine's shoulder and smiled at her.  
"You can stop worrying about it and go out and show everyone that, regardless of everything that is going on, you are still Christine Daaé, a brilliant musician and artist, and you will not allow the actions of anyone to stand in the way of your genius. Now get up."  
Christine smiled a bit and let Meg help her to her feet.  
"You are right. Thank you so much. You are always so good at cheering people up."  
"What are friends for? If you will excuse me, I should really go to warmup now..."  
The two hugged each other, and then Meg left for the ballet bar. Christine decided to continue standing by the set piece waiting for Erik to come find her. Perhaps he was just a bit late this evening. Perhaps there was nothing to fret over at all. Erik would come any moment now, and then Christine would calmly explain to him that the entire situation between her and Raoul was all just an enormous misunderstanding. She stood there patiently, but it was not Erik who came to speak to her five minutes before the performance was to begin, but instead La Carlotta.  
"Mademoiselle," the Spanish diva said coolly. "I hardly expected to see you here this evening. Everyone thought that you had left the opera for good. After all, you really haven't had any of the proper voice training or acting experience... And besides, I would think that you have more important matters to be tending to right now."  
"How do you mean?" asked the young soubrette.  
"I mean with your new bundle on the way, dear. A working woman doesn't make for a good mother."  
"There _is _no child! That was all just some silly rumour!"  
"There's no point in denying, young one. All of Paris knows that you were romantically involved with Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny. Although it's quite understandable for a girl of your age and social status, or should I say lack thereof, to want to gain the favour of an impressionable young viscount. Although it really doesn't do much for maintaining the integrity of the Opéra Garnier..."  
"This coming from the woman who was the cause of former manager Monsieur Debinne's wife's suicide three years ago?"  
Carlotta smirked.  
"Exactly. Everyone knew about it. It was in every paper, my affair with Monsieur Debinne. But the public soon forgot. My record was wiped clean. I have my own ways of dealing with the press. I have very powerful friends, Christine. _Quite_ powerful. Powerful enough to say.. oh, I don't know... cause Paris to believe that their newest prima donna is expecting the child of a young vicomte..."  
"You! I should have known that it was you who started this whole thing!"  
"That's right, dear, and I can end it just as easily."  
Christine hesitated.  
"How?" she asked finally.  
"Promise me that you will never sing here again."  
"But where will I find work? I have my bed-ridden foster mother to support. I'm her only source of income..."  
"I'm sure you'll find something. You're a pretty little thing. I could see you easily working Anvers-Pigalle. After all, you already have experience..."  
With this, Christine simply turned away, crying.  
"Oh, did I make the little tramp cry?"  
"Leave me alone, you cold heartless demon woman!"  
"Now, now, there's no reason to suddenly be so rash. If you want what little dignity you still have to remain intact, then all you have to do is never sing again."  
"Why? So that they can listen to your out-of-tune warbling until the end of time? I have suffered through living hell while in this opera house, much of it at your hand, and trust me that when I tell you that I would leave here if I could, I mean it."  
"Then why don't you?" she snickered. "Nobody's stopping you."  
With these words, La Carlotta walked away. Christine was shaken. She always knew that Carlotta didn't like her, but she had no idea that the diva despised her so much as to go to such lengths to try to get rid of her. At least now she new who was behind these rumours, but that still did nothing to help solve the problem. At least now things could be resolved with Erik. Surely he would believe her if she told him that Carlotta was the one behind everything. She only had to be calm and to wait for him until intermission. He had skipped their meeting before the performance, but surely he would cool down at least enough to speak to her by the time it was the first intermission. And then he of course would know how to set things right with the press. Everything was going to be fine. She had only to wait until the intermission.

The gala began as if any normal performance would with the exception that in box five sat Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin, the managers of the opera house. Carolus Fonta began Faust's recitative at the beginning of act I.

_Vain! In vain do I call through my vigil weary,  
__On creation and its Lord!  
__Never reply will break the silence dreary!  
__No sign! No single words!_

"Ghost," scoffed M Richard. "There is no ghost, my friend, and tonight I shall prove it to you."  
"Firmin, I really don't think that we should be sitting here," M Moncharmin whispered to his companion. "Won't the Monsieur O. G. be upset."  
"Armand, I think that you are forgetting that it is _we _who rum this opera and not some phantom. No ghost has whispered anything in your ear yet, right?"  
"Well, no, but didn't Mme Giry tell us that the ghost doesn't usually come until the middle of the first act? The performance has only begun. Give it some time."  
"Fine." M Richard shrugged. "But don't be surprised when I end up telling you 'I told you so' when act I is finished and still no ghost has come."  
"Hush!"

The curtain fell after Faust making his deal with the devil to have eternal youth. M Richard turned to M Moncharmin and gave a smirk.  
"Your ghost is late. I told you that no ghost would come."  
"I have to admit, it's not bad at all for a house with a curse upon it..."  
A flabby disheveled woman in black waved at box five from the audience. Monsieur Richard waved back.  
"Who on earth is that?" asked the puzzled Moncharmin.  
"My concierge," replied Richard. "It's her first time at the opera. I figured she ought to have a good seat before she spends all her time showing other people to theirs."  
"How do you mean?"  
"I've hired her to replace Mme Giry in her functions as the keeper of box five."  
"You know that Giry woman is going to lodge a complaint against you..."  
"With whom? The ghost?"  
"Well..."  
"For the love of God, Armand, there is no Opera Ghost!"  
It was at this moment that the door to the box suddenly opened and in stepped Monsieur Mercier, looking rather flustered.  
"What's the matter?" asked Richard.  
"It seems that some of Daaé's supporters have been conspiring against La Carlotta. Carlotta's furious!"  
"Well, what do you expect us to do about it? The second act is about to start. Go calm her down and get back to work."  
Mercier groaned and left the box. The curtain rose to begin act II.  
"Daaé has friends?" asked the puzzled Moncharmin.  
"Yes, she has. Do you not read the newspapers? Apparently she has grown to be very close friends with Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny." He pointed to a box across the theatre from them. "Supposedly there's some sort of romantic relationship between the two and it is rumoured that Mlle Daaé has been missing for so long because she is expecting a child. _His _child. On top of that, I've received numerous letters from his brother the Comte de Chagny, speaking so warmly on her behalf that if I had not known him to be Sorelli's friend..."  
"Really?..." said Moncharmin, twisting his mustache.  
The chorus of peasants began to sing.

_Red or white liquor,  
__Coarse or fine!  
__What can it matter,  
__So we have wine?_

Christine Daaé made her entrance as Siebel. Considering the word that they had received from M Mercier, the two managers would have expected to hear Daaé loudly cheered with her appearance, but nothing happened. However, there was an obnoxiously unnecessary amount of applause for when La Carlotta made her appearance and sang her only two lines of the entire second act.

_Not my lord, not a lady am I, nor yet a beauty,  
__And do not need an arm to help me on my way._

In fact, the amount of applause which she received was so unnecessary that every member of the audience who was not one of her supporters whom she had contacted was thoroughly confused at the event. Despite this, however, the second act finished without anything too severely out-of-the-ordinary occurring. After the second act, it was time for the first intermission.

The managers decided to go to the lobby during intermission and enjoy a glass of champagne while waiting for the scene-shifters backstage to make the necessary set changes for act III. While there in the lobby the concierge came up to them. Richard greeted her with a smile.  
"So how are you liking the Opéra so far?" he asked her.  
"Oh, very much so, Monsieur. Thank you very much for giving me a ticket."  
"You're quite welcome. Now go and enjoy yourself. It's a splendid house tonight and I want you to be able to take in the full experience of an evening at the opera."  
The women nodded and went off as the two managers continued chatting and sipping their champagne.

Raoul sat alone in box four (which, if you within the house and facing toward the stage, is the second box from the front on the grand tier). His brother, Comte Philippe de Chagny, had gone to enjoy a quick dinner in the foyer during the intermission, but Raoul had opted to stay in the box alone. He didn't much feel like going to socialize; not while there was an answer to find. Someone was trying to ruin either him or Christine and he was determined to figure out who it was. Raoul's first guess would have been Christine's 'Angel of Music,' but considering the reaction that Christine had described to him of when he had discovered about the rumour, Raoul was forced to allow his first instinct to be dismissed without any further thought. He continued to sit there in this pensive frame of mind until he was interrupted by the sound of the door to the box opening. It was Christine.  
"Raoul," she said in a quivering voice. She was trembling all over like a leaf and biting a bit at her fingernails.  
"Christine, what's wrong?" he asked, getting up from his seat and moving toward her. She closed the door to the box and then rushed into Raoul's soft embrace. She let her tears flow.  
"I know who did this, Raoul! I know who started this whole terrible lie!"  
"Who did it Christine?"  
"It was La Carlotta. She is trying to force me into canceling my contract with the Opéra. I always knew that she disliked me, but I had absolutely no idea that it was this bad. When I asked her where I was to find work if I did agree to such a thing, she... Oh, it's too horrible..."  
"What? What did she tell you?"  
"She called me a tramp and said that I should have no trouble working Anvers-Pigalle, especially considering the fact that I already had so much experience..."  
"There, there... calm down. Those are all lies and you know it. Don't let it get to you... Look on the bright side; now that we know who is behind this whole thing, we can go to the press and have then straighten everything out. And you can go to Erik and explain to him that this was all Carlotta's doing."  
Christine just shook her head.  
"That is the other thing that is upsetting me," she sobbed. "I cannot find Erik anywhere! He did not meet with me backstage before the performance like he always does, and he did not come to see me in my dressing room at the beginning of the intermission. Raoul, something terrible is going to happen tonight; I just know it! With the managers disobeying his casting instructions and firing the keeper of his private box and with this whole article in the newspaper... All of this cannot possibly end well..."  
"Christine just calm down. We're going to get through this together, all right?"  
Christine just kept shaking her head and rang her hands in anguish.  
"Raoul, I want you to leave. Right now. Erik is up to something and I do not want to see you hurt."  
"Christine, nothing is going to happen..."  
"You do not know him like I do, Raoul! He will kill you if he gets the chance. I will not allow that to happen; you must leave now!"  
"And leave you here to face his wrath instead? I don't think so."  
"Raoul, you have to trust me..."  
"Christine, I will not simply abandon you. It's apparent that you need me here, even if only to comfort you."  
It was in saying these words that he turned her face to him and kissed her lips.  
"I'll be fine," he whispered to her.  
At this point, an electric bell rang, signaling to everyone within the theatre that act III would be beginning in only five minutes time.  
"I should probably get backstage," she said, forcing a smile. "After all, I am supposed to start the garden scene in act III."  
She went to leave the box, but right before she could get to the door, it opened before her to reveal the Comte de Chagny.  
"Raoul," said the Comte coolly, "what is this woman doing in my box?"  
"I was just"  
"I wasn't talking to you. Don't you think that you've already caused enough damage to the Chagny name?"  
"Philippe," Raoul began, but he did not allow the young man to finish his statement.  
"I don't ever want to catch you alone with my brother again, do you understand me? You've stirred up enough trouble for a lifetime..."  
"But I did nothing wrong..."  
"I already wrote to M Richard once on your behalf, and I refuse to do so again. Next time your career is in jeopardy, don't come crying to my brother and me for help; you're on your own. And if there _is_ any sort of relationship between you and him, consider it ended as of this moment. I will not have my family's name scandalized and its reputation dismantled due to some silly little girl who can't seem to learn her place in society."  
Christine spoke not a word. She simply glanced back at Raoul and left the box.  
"She was only trying to help..." insisted Raoul once she had left.  
"Raoul, I don't want to hear any more about it. Now just sit and watch the rest of the performance and then when we get home, I want you to write a letter to the editors of _l'Époque_, telling them that everything they had heard about a relationship between you and Mlle Daaé was false.  
Raoul would have liked to argue the point further, but the lights dimmed and the curtain rose upon Marguerite's garden.

_Gentle flowers in the dew,  
__Be message from me...  
__Gentle flowers, lie ye there  
__And tell her from me.  
__Would she but deign to hear me  
__And with one smile to cheer me?..._

Christine quivered as she sang. Something was upsetting her; there was no doubt about it! Raoul could not bear to watch his beloved perform in such a state of mind. Tears flowed from his eyes and he watched her, knowing that this could perhaps be the last time that he would ever see her again.  
Christine's flower romance ended and she left the stage without receiving a single second of applause. She could hear snickers from members of the audience. The only one there that evening who had come for _her _was Raoul. And soon, he would be leaving as well. Perhaps Carlotta was right. Perhaps she should leave the Opéra. It was apparent that no one wanted her there. After one of Erik's letters, the managers had already threatened to fire her once and they were extremely hesitant to let her back after such a lengthy leave of absence... And she did not _have_ to resort to prostitution if she left. There were plenty of people in Paris who earned a living as street performers; why couldn't she? She could sing in the streets... or what about any of the other, smaller theatres in the city? There was the Opéra Comique, the Théâtre Lyrique... It was a possibility... But then again, Erik would never stand for such. He would kill off a thousand heads of management before he would allow her to leave the Garnier.  
As Carlotta made her entrance, there was a thunderous applause. She began the recitative for the ballad of the King of Thulé.

_Je voudrais bien savoir quel était ce jeune homme...  
__Si c'est un grand Seigneur...  
__Et comment il se nome..._

She finished the entire scene flawlessly and gained more confidence than ever in her voice and in her performance. She flung every ounce of her being into the role to the point where she was no longer Marguerite, but instead Violetta Valéry! It was not until her duet with Faust did the events in the evening begin to take a turn for the worse. Faust had sung his part:

_Let me gaze on the form before me,  
__While from yonder ether blue  
__Look how the star of eve, bright and tender, lingers o'er me.  
__To love thy beauty too!_

Then came Marguerite:

_Oh, how strange!  
__Like a spell does the evening bind me!  
__And a deep languid charm  
__I feel without alarm  
__With its melody enwind me  
__And all my heart subdue._

And it was at that moment, as Carlotta was sustaining the last syllable of 'subdue' that the moment of horror began. Rather than the perfect voice they had expected to hear from the diva's throat, there was the sound of a toad that leaped forth with a mighty 'co-ack!'  
Carlotta panicked. Carolus panicked. The conductor panicked. Every person sitting within the audience who had heard the terrible sound panicked. Had that hideous sound come from anyone other than Carlotta, they would have been booed and hissed off of the stage in a heartbeat! But not Carlotta. Surely not Carlotta. Her voice was so perfect. It had not the capability of creating such a sound. Surely this was not her voice that had suddenly croaked like a toad. Surely the whole thing had never happened. Everyone must just be hearing things, because one thing was for certain: that sound could not have possibly come from the throat of La Carlotta.  
She decided to allow herself the doubt that it had not happened, and began the phrase anew, but the same thing happened over and over again. It was then, that in box five, the two managers heard a chilling voice which laughed manically told them:  
"She is singing tonight to bring down the chandelier!"  
With these words, the terrified managers lifted their eyes to the massive grand chandelier above the middle of the theatre slowly slipping toward the earth.

The house was plunged into screaming fits of terror. People poured out of the opera from every little crack and crevice they could find. All but one person that is, and that person was the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. He had remembered Christine's words earlier that evening and the note he had received a few months back from her 'Angel' and he feared the worst. Christine was right; something terrible had happened. First Carlotta, then the chandelier... Raoul feared that his little Christine would be Erik's next victim. He rushed through every backstage passage searching for her and calling her name.  
"Christine! Christine!"  
Nothing. He kept on searching. Finally a faint voice replied to him.  
"Raoul?"  
"Yes, Christine, it is I! Where are you?"  
"In the broom closet at the end of the corridor."  
Raoul found the closet of which she spoke, but also found it to be locked.  
"It will not budge!" he exclaimed, throwing all of his weight against the door in an attempt to break it down.  
"Raoul, leave while you still can..."  
"Christine, I'm not leaving here until I know that you're safe from that demon!"  
"But he will kill you Raoul! He knew that you would come looking for me. This is all a trap!"  
No sooner had Christine said this than all of the gas jets in the Opéra were suddenly put out all at once. Raoul could feel a cold shiver come over him, like he had suddenly stepped out into the cold January night air.  
"She's right you know," chuckled a sinister voice. "You should have listened to her rather than allowing your arrogance to get in the way of your senses..."  
Raoul took a few steps away from the door of the broom closet.  
"Let Christine go! She hasn't done anything wrong."  
"I'll get to the lovely Mademoiselle Daaé soon enough, Monsieur. After all, it just wouldn't be gentlemanly for me to leave her in that closet _forever_. No, I think that a good two, maybe three days should do the trick..."  
"You let her go this instant or I'll... I'll... I'll get the police to come in here!"  
Erik laughed.  
"And tell them what? That the Opéra Ghost has the world's easiest soprano locked in a broom closet? Good luck getting that story to fly. They'll simply take you as an absolute madman."  
"Raoul, please just go!"  
"Quiet Christine," scolded the monster. "Stay out of this! It is up to Monsieur de Chagny to choose his fate. Are you going to leave here Monsieur?"  
"Not without Christine!"  
"So be it then..."  
Raoul was about to make some snappy comeback, but he felt something – a rope – land around his neck and begin to tighten. He choked and struggled against it, but he could not free himself from the monster's grasp. The poor Christine could hear her lover's desperate troubles and began to sob.  
"Please Erik! Have pity upon him! He was only trying to protect me..."  
"So you feel that you _need_ to have protection from your Angel of Music? All the more reason I should kill him right now!'  
"No, Erik!" She sobbed. "Erik, I..."  
She caught herself. She did not want to worsen the situation by openly revealing her true feelings for Raoul in front of Erik. It would only spite him further...  
"You what? You love him? Is that what you were going to say?"  
"Why, no Erik, not at all..."  
"Well then what difference should it make to you whether or not I kill him?"  
Erik had tricked her. He was toying with her mind, trying to see if she would be able to come up with a reason for him to spare the vicomte other than her apparent sentiments for him.  
"I will only be seeing him for a month longer at most. He is scheduled to leave on an expedition to the North Pole... Please, Erik! If you love me, even only a little bit, let him go! Please let him go, I beg you! Once he leaves on his expedition, you shall be free to do anything you want with me..."  
"Anything?"  
She hesitated. He seemed overly intrigued by such a idea. She shuddered at the thought of her there with Erik... alone... in the darkness of that underground tomb... at the ripples of that foggy blue lake... those ripples which reminded her of that night.. the night when she saw her father lying there on the beach and...  
"You have my word," she finally said, regretting the promise which she had made him.  
She heard shuffling on the other side of the door, and soon, Erik opened it before her. He untied the ropes which he had used to tie her wrists and began to walk away. Christine felt around in the dark until she found Raoul's unconscious body lying on the ground.  
"You killed him!" she shrieked in horror.  
"Consider it a favour," Erik replied bitterly, and he left her there alone with Raoul's body.  
This was all her fault! She had allowed Raoul to die! If she had listened to Erik in the first place and never agreed to meet him after the time that they were drunk together, none of this would have happened! But it was too late now. All that she could do now was sit there beside him crying and hoping for a miracle...


	18. Chapter 18: The Engagement Game

**Okay... I wanted to post this yesterday, July 12th, since that was Philippe's birthday, but unfortunately I got distracted and never got to finish the last two scenes. I hope that you enjoy this new chapter despite the fact that it is extremely different from the content i had originally intended where Philippe became much more involved in the plot of the story. If and when my handwritten copy is found, I will either replace this chapter with the original content or add in the old content with the new. However, this marks the end of the chapters i had finished before I lost my binder. All chapters from hereforth will be fresh and so they will hopefully be published faster than my attempting to remember exactly what I had written previously. I hope that you enjoy and please feel free to PM me any questions which you may have about the plot of the story. **

**And now, time for a quick advertisement... Do you like to role play? Have you been wanting to join a totally awesome Phantom of the Opera role play? Well, look no further. Go to the forums in the Phantom of the Opera section and go to my forum titled "Bienvenue au Palais Garnier" to join a new, modern-day phantom of the opera role play. Leads still available. Hurry, don't delay! visit .net/forum/Bienvenue_au_Palais_Garnier/92868/**

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen: The Engagement Game_

It was about an hour later before the fire department got the gas working again in the Opéra Garnier after the unfortunate incident with the chandelier earlier on in the evening. When the police entered, in search of reasons for the chandelier to have fallen and for all of the gas to have suddenly stopped working, they found Mlle Daaé still sobbing over the body of an unconscious Vicomte de Chagny. A doctor was immediately called upon to tend to the Vicomte. Monsieur Milfroid, the chief of police in the investigation, took Mlle Daaé aside for further questioning about the evening mysterious chain of events. The poor girl was hysterical with everything that had been happening around her that evening and was most definitely in no state of mind to speak to speak to the authorities on the matter.  
"Is he going to be all right? Tell me he is going to be all right!" Christine almost screamed to M Milfroid.  
"Calm down, Mademoiselle, I assure you that Doctor Odlum is doing all that he can to help revive Monsieur de Chagny. In the mean time though, I'd like to ask you a few things about tonight. Where were you this evening when the chandelier fell?"  
"I was back stage. I had just finished my part in the garden act... Monsieur, please excuse me, but I must know if Monsieur de Chagny is going to be all right... Oh, this all my fault..."  
"You will be able to return to him soon enough, Mademoiselle..."  
"Monsieur, I cannot wait! I must know now!"  
In a sobbing fit, Christine tried to rush to Raoul's side, but Milfroid caught her by the arm and then noticed the rope marks around her hands and wrists. This took him for a bit of a surprise. He glanced over at where the vicomte, who was just beginning to come to, was laying, and saw the rope lying there on the ground beside him.  
"Mademoiselle Daaé," he said, "do you happen to have any idea as to how Monsieur de Chagny ended up in this sort of state? Surely it could not have been any sort of accident..."  
Christine stopped. The string of horrible events throughout the day and made her such an emotional wreck that she was not quite sure of anything that had happened any more. All that she could remember of what had happened with Raoul was darkness, Erik's laughter, and her own mortified screams.  
"I... I do not know..." she said softly. "It is all a blur... All that I can remember is crying out to Monsieur de Chagny, hearing his gasping struggles... and then I remember feeling along the ground in the dark and finding his body just lying there on the ground, seemingly lifeless... I thought that he was dead..."  
It was as she was saying this 'I thought he was dead,' that the doctor helped Raoul to sit up. Christine saw this and M Milfroid could not restrain her any further. The weeping girl rushed to the young vicomte's side and embraced him.  
"Christine, is that you?" asked the young man, still becoming aware of his surroundings.  
"Oh, Raoul! You are alive. I was afraid that I was never going to see you again..."  
"Christine, Christine... You worry far too much."  
"And for good reason too! Raoul, promise me that you will never frighten me like that again!"  
"I promise you, Christine..."  
The two kissed. During this time, the doctor had gone to speak with M Milfroid about the vicomte's condition. After speaking to the doctor, Milfroid turned to the two love birds who had just been reunited.  
"Mademoiselle Daaé, I shall have to ask you to come with me."  
"What? But for what reason?" questioned the girl.  
"I am afraid that I am going to have to place you under arrest."  
"Under what accounts?" said Raoul, questioning the officer's authority.  
"Under account of _your_ attempted murder, Monsieur le Vicomte."  
"That's preposterous! Mademoiselle Daaé would never do anything to hurt me, much less try to murder me!"  
"Monsieur, I hate to argue, but all of our evidence would state otherwise. The rope left at the scene along with the marks both on your neck and Mlle Daaé's wrists are suspicious enough grounds for arrest on their own, but on top of that, Mlle Daaé's alibi for where she was when the chandelier fell doesn't check out. She claims to have been backstage when the event occurred, and yet witnesses say that she went missing right after she sang in the garden act."  
He tried to take Christine away, but Raoul protectively put his arms around the trembling girl, shielding her from him.  
"If anything at all tonight Mlle Daaé was a heroine. She saved my life from the man who really tried to kill me, and I think that it's about time that somebody told you the truth about what happened tonight!"  
Christine panicked. Surely Raoul was not going to tell him about Erik!  
"Raoul, no!"  
"I'm sorry Christine, but it's for your own good!... For a few months now, Mademoiselle Daaé has been receiving several rather vulgar letters from an anonymous admirer. The nature of these letters addressed to her frightened the girl very greatly. She wanted to contact the authorities to have them look into the matter, but the man in the letters made several threats against both her and her mother, stating how he would inflict great pain upon them both if she did choose to bring it to them. She was scared and didn't know where else to turn, so she came to me and told me about this monster who had been sending her letters with the most outrageous requests, and made me promise that I wouldn't tell a soul. I promised her and remained with her as much as I possibly could for support during the time. The notes seemed to be getting less frequent and actually disappeared for a short while, until that article in the paper this morning. Mlle Daaé received a note soon after from the same man, raving about how he planned to save her in spite of herself and made several threats against me. Curious to ask Mlle Daaé about the article after having read it, I came to the opera to find her. When she saw me during the intermission, she begged me to leave for my own safety, explaining to me about the new letter she had received. I refused, simply reassuring her that I was in no danger. When the chandelier fell only a little later during the performance, I at once remembered what mademoiselle had told me previously and rushed to find her, concerned for her well-being and protection from this mad who was mad with lust for her. When I found her, the man had tied her up and locked her in that broom closet over there. I tried to get her out, but the door would not budge. She begged me to leave her there and to escape while I still had the chance, but I refused to leave her in the clutches of that madman. It was then that the gas went out and I heard a man's voice, making the most lustful and perverse statements about his feelings for Mlle Daaé. I was outraged at hearing this, and tried in vain to find the source of the voice, so that I might give the perverted monster a thorough beating for speaking of my dear friend in such a vulgar way, but suddenly felt myself being strangled and heard Christine's cries and pleas to the man who was attacking me. After that, I blacked out, but can only assume that Mlle Daaé convinced the crazed man to spare my life and that he soon after let her free from the closet. I can only hope that my freedom was not at her own cost... I owe her my life, and you police are mad to want to arrest her for a crime of which she is completely innocent when the man who is truly responsible is out there somewhere, loose on the streets!"  
He didn't tell! Her dear old little playfellow had not betrayed her after all!  
"Monsieur de Chagny, regardless of your account, Mlle Daaé is still a suspect in my case, and I am required to take her in for further questioning."  
"And I, Monsieur, refuse to allow an innocent woman to spend the night in prison! Come, Christine, I'm taking you home to your mother at once..."  
"Monsieur de Chagny, I cannot allow you to do that. She is a prime suspect in a case of attempted murder."  
"Well, it was _my_ attempted murder that you are accusing her of and I can tell you, without a single hint of doubt, that she is innocent. And even if she is guilty as you claim, I release her from any charges involving my name. I know your little game, Monsieur. This is all a business to you. You get paid a little extra for bringing someone back in handcuffs."  
Raoul dug into his pocket, found his wallet, and pulled out some franc notes.  
"Here. Five hundred francs for the immediate release of Mlle Christine Daaé."  
"Monsieur, I'm not allowed to take bribes..."  
"One thousand then."  
"Monsieur, I can't"  
"Five thousand francs for the immediate release of Mlle Christine Daaé and to have this entire accusation purged from her good name."  
Monsieur Milfroid was in shock. Five thousand francs was more than a months pay for him.  
"I... I suppose that I don't have to tell me superiors about the marks on Mlle Daaé's wrists..."  
He took the notes from Raoul. The vicomte then turned to the doctor and handed him another five hundred francs.  
"For your assistance and for you silence," he said to the doctor. "I thank both of you gentlemen kindly for your help tonight and hope that you are able to find the man responsible for the chandelier. Best of luck"  
And with this, he got up, helped Christine to her feet, put an arm around her, and led her out of the Opéra.

It was about fifteen minutes of walking until they reached Mme Valerius' flat on the rue Notre Dame des Victoires.  
"Will you not come in for a moment?" Christine cooed softly.  
"I suppose I can stay for a few minutes, but Philippe will be worried if I am out too late..."  
The two walked into the house. It was approximately one forty-five in the morning and not a soul stirred within the house. Mamma Valerius was fast asleep and Criada had already gone home for the evening.  
"Please, have a seat," she said, motioning to a small dining table with two chairs at it and walking into the next room "Is there anything that I can get you? Anything at all? I can go make some tea. Or perhaps coffee would be more to your liking?"  
"Nothing, thank you," said Raoul as he sat. "If I have anything caffeinated at this hour, I'll be up all night..."  
Christine returned, carrying a silver tray of biscuits and bonbons, and setting it down before him at the table.  
"Christine, really. I'm fine. I don't need anything. I'd much rather just sit and talk to you."  
"Please, Raoul, there must be something that I can do to make you even the slightest bit more comfortable..."  
"Why don't you just sit down? It's been such a long time since I last saw you... I was beginning to get worried. Where have you been all this time? I even came here to ask Mamma Valerius and she sadly told me that she had neither seen nor heard from you either in quite some time. We were both quite worried about you, you know..."  
"I am so sorry, Raoul. I did not mean to cause you any worry..."  
"Then tell me where you've been this whole time?"  
Christine hesitated. Could she really tell him all about Erik? He knew that Erik existed, but nothing more. How was she to explain to the man that she loved that all this time she had been staying in the house of a man who was deeply in love with her and who had attempted to kill him earlier on that evening?  
"Christine, answer me," he said gently. "Tell me the truth."  
Christine just shook her head.  
"I am truly sorry, Raoul, but I cannot... You are not ready to know the truth yet..."  
This deeply upset Raoul that Christine still could not trust him with her secret, but he retained his composure on the matter. He could not however, help but to notice the plain gold ring which she still wore on her finger.  
"I see you're still wearing your ring from Erik," he said, not being able to avoid revealing a hint of bitterness in the tone of his voice.  
Christine shrunk a little at his words. She had hoped he would not bring up that name this evening... Christine gave a sigh and stood from where she sat.  
"Would you excuse me for a moment? I just remembered that there is something I must do..."  
"Take your time," said Raoul resuming his gentle tone. "I understand. It's been a rough day..."

The moment that Christine closed the door after stepping foot into her bedroom, tears began to flow. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep hiding this whole situation from him. She couldn't keep hiding her feelings from him. She kept everything as far away as she possibly could from him. The entire affair was dangerous to him. _She_ was dangerous to him. He had nearly died that night because of her. Why on earth would he take such great risks to his own safety just to protect her? Why did he make up that story for her to tell to the police? Why had he paid more than five thousand francs that evening just to prevent her from having to spend that night in prison? Despite every murderous attempt that Erik had made to keep him away from her, he nevertheless remained at her side through all of it... Oh Erik! Why had he made this so difficult for her? Why did he insist on spilling so much blood in her name? On spilling so much blood in the name of love? Far too much blood had already been spilled. Christine could not take it any longer. It was driving her mad! In a frenzy of emotions, she tore open her dresser drawers and began frantically rummaging through. It had to be there somewhere... Aha!  
Finally she found it. It was the smooth, sleek blade of a knife. It shined a bluey silver in the light from the full moon which shown over Paris, allowing its beams to trickle through the shutters of her window. It was her father's knife. He had given it to her as he laid dying. He told her to keep it so that she could protect herself, and that he would also help to protect her while he was in Heaven by sending the Angel of Music to be her guardian... Angel of Music! Christine now found the idea to be absolute rubbish. There was no Angel of Music. Erik had made sure of that. The Angel of Music was dead along with her father and her hope. Her poor father... Why hadn't she been able to do more? Why hadn't she been able to save him that night by the sea?... That didn't matter now. It was all in the past, was it not? Either way, her father's blade would soon come to serve a purpose greater than its original intent. It would not only protect her from the world, but protect the world from her as well...  
Christine took the rosary from the top of her dresser and in the other hand took her father's blade. She knelt down beside the window and began to say a little prayer until her tears choked her and she could pray no more. She looked over her knife and held it up to the light. She saw her features reflected in its surface and somewhere it reflected back to her the sight of her father, cold and dead, and the monster that had taken him from her that fateful night. She kissed the blade and held her breath, pointing its sharp tip to her breast.  
"Christine, what are you doing?"  
It was Raoul. Christine did not turn in his direction, but instead began trembling all over, not being able to contain her tears.  
"It is for your own good, Raoul!" she cried. "It is for everyone's good! Far too many murders have been committed in my name..."  
"Christine, don't talk tike that! You can't actually be considering killing yourself..."  
"What choice do I have! He will not stop until one of us is dead! He nearly killed you tonight! He nearly killed you and it was all my fault! All of this has been my fault!"  
"Christine, you're being too hard on yourself..."  
"Don't come any closer!"  
"Christine..."  
"I'm warning you, Raoul!"  
"Christine, I'm only trying to help..."  
"Then you can help by not trying to change my mind about this..."  
"Christine!"  
In a swift motion, Raoul caught Christine's wrists and fought with her, allowing her to struggle until she finally dropped the knife to the ground. She was sobbing and breathing heavily. He took her up in his arms like a little bird with a broken wing and pressed her head to his heart.  
"Hush now," he said. "None of this is your fault, and it's not fair that you should have to suffer through it like it is... My nearly being killed was my own fault. I should have listened to you and left when you asked me to. I stayed though. Do you know why I stayed?"  
He waited for Christine to respond, but she only continued crying.  
"I stayed because I love you, and I didn't want to see you get hurt. I was afraid Christine. Afraid of losing you again... I love you..."  
"Say it again..." she whispered.  
"I love you," he set, pressing her even more closely to his heart. He continued to hold her there in his arms until she had finally cried so much that she could cry no more.  
"I should probably go home now. It's late and Philippe is probably wondering where I am by now..."  
"Do not go... Do not leave me here. I thought that you loved me..."  
"I _do_ love you, Christine."  
"Then why do you want to leave me here alone?"  
" I don't _want_ to leave you at all Christine, but I have to let my brother know that I'm all right. I promise I'll come back first thing in the morning for you."  
"Raoul, do not say that," she said, beginning to cry once more. "I beg of you, do not leave me!"  
"Christine, it's only for a few hours. I'll be back by sunrise..."  
"But Raoul, I have to go back tomorrow. I cannot risk him attempting to kill you again!"  
Raoul was silent. Even after all that had happened that evening, she still wanted to return to her Erik?  
"Christine, you don't have to go back there"  
"But I do, Raoul, and that is the problem. Perhaps some day you shall be able to understand... But for these last few hours, do not leave me. Let me have just one evening free from any thought of _him._"  
Raoul kissed the top of her head.  
"I suppose Philippe can wait," he said.

It was about seven o'clock in the morning when Criada entered the apartment of Madame Valerius. She saw the tray on the table and figured that Mlle Daaé  
She went to the door of Mlle Daaé's bedroom and tapped on it before entering. However, when she opened the door, she was taken back by what she saw. There was Mademoiselle Daaé lying in her bed with a young man who appeared to be the Vicomte de Chagny. Her Mistress was in shock as well, apparently not expecting for the maid to walk in on her while she was with the Vicomte...  
"Criada, what are you doing here?"  
"I'm so sorry, Mademoiselle Daaé! I just wanted to welcome you home and ask what you would like for breakfast. I didn't mean to walk in on... "  
Christine sighed.  
"Just promise me that you will not tell anyone what you have seen – especially not Mamma..."  
"Of course, Mademoiselle. I won't tell a soul, I swear."  
"Just... go prepare breakfast. I will be out shortly..."  
"Of course, Mademoiselle..."  
And she left the room. Christine climbed out of bed and began to dress.  
"I am so sorry for the interruption," she said to Raoul, who sat there still in bed.  
"It's fine but... Christine... what happened last night..."  
"We speak of this to no one, Raoul," she said, firmly cutting him off. "Right now, I need to prepare to go back to Erik."  
"That's just it, Christine. Why on earth are you returning to him? I mean after all, he did leave you there to take the blame when he tried to kill me. And based on your descriptions of him, I am assuming that he had something to do with the chandelier falling. But you and I, Christine, we..."  
"There is no 'we' Raoul. There never was and there never can be. We had our fun in the past and let us simply leave it at that."  
Raoul was confused. This didn't sound at all like the Christine he knew. Something must be wrong...  
"Christine, is there something that you want to tell me?"  
"Want to tell you? Raoul, why on earth would there be anything that I needed to tell you?"  
"I don't know... I just thought that maybe you needed somebody to talk to. You seem distressed about something..."  
Christine stopped what she was doing and sighed.  
"If you must know," she said, "it was six years ago today that my father died."  
Raoul was silent. He knew how close Christine had been to her father. It would explain why she had been so emotional recently. He hadn't even known that her father was dead until she had invited him to visit the grave site with her after they were reunited at her triumphant gala performance.  
"I'm sorry, Christine. I... I didn't know... You never did tell me how the man died..."  
"He was sick," said Christine, resuming her morning routine. "Very sick. He died of pneumonia."  
"Oh... I'm sorry"  
"Why? It is not your fault that he died. If it is anyone's fault, then it is my own."  
"Christine, stop blaming yourself for everything. You didn't kill you father..."  
"But I _was_ the one who got him sick, Raoul... I had gone out into the woods to take a walk, even though father told me not too. Mamma Valerius' birthday was coming up and I wanted to surprise her with a pie. Raoul, you remember going into the woods to pick wild raspberries, do you not?"  
"How could I forget? They were our favorite treat."  
"Well, I had gone out into the woods when a big storm came. Daddy was worried about me, and so he ran out to try to find me in the blizzard. By the time that he had found where I had wandered off to and took me back to the house, he was frozen nearly to death. He caught pneumonia from being out in the cold for far too long. Mamma Valerius and I did all that could to help him, but it was not enough... He died a week later... That monster called pneumonia took my father away from me and it was all my fault! If I had only listened to him instead of going out trying to find berries in the dead of winter, even though I knew that there probably would not be any, father would still be alive right now!"  
She began to sob again. Oh no, Raoul thought to himself. Now look what he had done... Raoul got up and came up behind Christine, taking her in his arms.  
"Do you know what I think," he said, pressing a kiss you her cheek. "I think that your father would be very upset to see you like this."  
"Raoul, it's because of me that he cannot see me like this."  
"Christine, Christine..."  
She did not respond.  
"My little Lotte... Whatever am I going to do with you? _Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as gold as the sun's rays, and her eyes as clear and as blue as her soul..._"  
He ran his fingers through her golden mass of curls. Christine closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of his soft embrace. She sighed. She knew that if she cared at all about Raoul, this would all have to end soon. She placed a hand on his.  
"You should get dressed," she said. "You are welcome to stay for breakfast if you like."  
"Breakfast sounds nice," he said, smiling and planting another kiss on her cheek. Christine blushed a little.  
"Raoul?"  
"Yes, Christine?"  
"What happened last night... at the Opéra."  
"What about it?"  
"I just... I just wanted to say thank you..."  
"Don't mention it."  
He smiled, then let go of her and began to dress. Christine sat down for a moment.  
"When you have a moment, could you help to tie me up?"  
"Sure thing. Just hold on a moment..."  
He got himself mostly dressed then went over to Christine. She stood and turned her back toward him, allowing him to take the stings of her corset and tie her in.  
"Christine... about last night... I didn't think... well... were you really going to kill yourself?"  
Christine bit her lip.  
"I was strongly considering the possibility," she admitted softly, eyes downcast in shame.  
Raoul gently took her hand.  
"You know that I'm always here if you just need to talk."  
"I know..."  
"Then why don't you ever let me?"  
Christine shrugged her shoulders and heaved a deep sigh.  
"I have never been very good at sharing my feelings, Raoul. Please do not take it personally..."  
I'm not taking it as a personal insult but... Christine, I think you need help. Have you considered seeing a doctor?"  
"A doctor? Raoul, are you suggesting that I might be mad?"  
"No, not at all," he said, trying to calm the sudden spite that the girl had shown. "I'm just concerned for your safety. I might not be there the next time that you're not thinking straightly and... well... I just don't want you to end up hurting yourself on accident..."  
She laughed at him a little and then began to resume her dressing.  
"I'm serious, Christine! You could have seriously injured or even killed yourself last night. I don't see how this is a laughing matter!"  
"Raoul, there is really no reason you should be so concerned about me. I got along just fine after you left and now that you have returned, it really makes little difference to me... I am sorry if I seem like I am being rude, Raoul, but it is better if I do not get too attached to you. After all, you left once, and you shall be leaving again. I am sorry, Raoul, but you already broke my heart once. I do not think that I could stand you breaking it again..."  
She turned to look at him and he saw that She was not smiling any more, but had a very serious look on her face. He did not question her any further, but finished dressing and went to the dining room with her. The two sat down at the kitchen table, not quite sure what to say to each other after all that had happened between the two of them within the past twenty-four hours. They stared at each other awkwardly, neither knowing quite what to say to the other.  
"You look lovely this morning," said Raoul trying to start up conversation.  
"Thank you." she said without much thought to it.  
"So about last night..."  
"Raoul, can we _please_ stop talking about last night?"  
"Sorry," he said. "I was just trying to break the silence..."  
Criada came and set a plate in front of each of them.  
"Here you are Mademoiselle Daaé. It's your favorite: crêpes with a lingonberry filling. I have to kettle warming for your tea. Monsieur de Chagny, can I get you anything else? Tea? Coffee?..."  
"Coffee, please."  
"Do you take cream or sugar?"  
"No, no thank you."  
Criada went back to the kitchen.  
Christine began to cut into her crêpes, but Raoul didn't eat.  
"Christine," he said, "do you love me?"  
"Why, of course I love you Raoul..."  
"Then why are you returning to the man who tried to kill me?"  
Christine sighed and put her fork down, then reached across the table and laid a hand on Raoul's.  
"Please, Raoul, you must try to understand. I am returning to him _because_ I love you. Perhaps I can convince him to allow me to see you at least for this brief time before you are scheduled to leave... When you were unconscious last night, I made a deal with him... I told him that if he allowed you to live, and allowed us to be together until you left... that would stay with him indefinitely..."  
Raoul stood where he sat and slammed a fist down on the table. Christine was so in shock that she drew her hand away.  
"No, Christine! I will not allow it!"  
"Raoul, the deal has already been made..."  
"I'm not going to let you throw your entire life away for my sake!"  
"Raoul..."  
"Christine, I'm serious! I'll carry you away from him, I promise."  
"Raoul, not so loud. You shall wake Mamma Valerius..."  
Before Christine could utter a word in protest, Raoul grabbed her wrist, forcing her to her feet and kissed her. Christine just stood there in shock. Raoul finally released her.  
"I should go," he said. "Philippe will be worried. _Go back to your precious Erik..._"  
He said these last words with a bitterness which Christine had never heard before from her dear old little playfellow. Raoul left the flat without another word and without so much as even a glance back at Christine. Criada returned with the tea and coffee in hand and looked around, a bit confused.  
"Where did Monsieur de Chagny go?"  
"He had to leave," Christine said, giving a sigh. "I am so sorry for the trouble, Criada..."  
"It really is no trouble at all, Mademoiselle. After all, it is my duty..."  
Christine smiled at her maid.  
"Thank you for being so understanding through all of this... I really wasn't expecting Monsieur de Chagny to accompany me home last night, much less stay until morning..."  
"You love him, don't you?"  
Christine turned to Criada.  
"How can you tell?"  
"I see the way that you look at him. It's the same way that my mother looks at my father when he comes home late after work... Are you going to be staying long?"  
Christine sighed.  
"I am afraid not..."  
Criada smiled at her.  
"Cheer up," she said. "I'll be sure to tell Madame that you stopped by. And don't worry. My lips are sealed about what I saw this morning."  
"Thank you, Criada."  
"You're welcome. Now finish your breakfast and go do whatever it is you need to do today."  
Christine smiled and sat down to finish her crêpes.

It was an hour later when Christine arrived at the shore of the underground lake.  
"Erik?" she called" "Erik, I came back..."  
There was a moment of silence and then a faint splashing of oars at Erik rowed across the lake toward Christine. When he reached shore, Christine stepped into the boat without a word and Erik set off again, back toward the house.  
"He was not dead," Christine said softly, trying to break the silence between them."  
"Oh goody..."  
"You know Erik, your actions last night nearly got me into a lot of trouble..."  
"And?..."?  
"_And_ I would hope that you might at least apologize for this..."|  
Erik was silent and continued to row. Christine was a bit taken back by this. She knew that Erik was not the kindest of men, but regardless of that, he _did _love her. Or at least, she had thought that he did. Now, she wasn't so sure...  
They reached the other side of the lake. Erik helped Christine out of the boat and then opened the door to the house on the lake.  
"You seem awfully quiet today," she said as she stepped into the house.  
"Sorry. I'm just a bit tired is all..."  
"Have you considered my offer?"  
"And what offer might that be?" he asked simply going to the dining room and sitting down to finish his half drunken coffee.  
"My offer about Monsieur de Chagny," she said after taking a deep breath.  
"Oh! No, I haven't."  
"Well... could you possibly consider making a decision fairly soon?"  
"Give me a month or so. I'll think about it."  
"But... a month is far too late! He shall be gone by then..."  
"Oh, well isn't that too bad."  
"Erik, please. If this is about the article, Madame Carlotta told me herself that it was she who sent the story to the press. He knew nothing about it, and there certainly isn't any truth behind it..."  
Erik sighed.  
"Christine, Christine... I'm only doing this to protect you."  
"To protect me? What on earth from, Erik?"  
"From the desires of a youth who's quite used to getting his way. Christine, he's just using you. He doesn't love you."  
"And you do, I suppose? Monsieur de Chagny is a kind man. He is not a murderer and criminal who was willing to let me take the blame for his actions last night at the Opéra, which is more than I can say for you, you hideous monster!"  
Erik was unable to restrain his fury. How dare she! After all that he had done for her... In one swift and utterly uncontrollable motion, he backhanded Christine across her cheek, knocking her to the floor.  
Christine was in shock. She touched her throbbing temple and her lips quivered as a single tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the wood of the floor. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that Erik was exactly the monster that she had accused him of being.  
Erik then realized what he had done. How was she ever to learn to love him now? He reached a hand to her, offering to help her up, but she did not move.  
"Erik," she said softly, "I am going to visit Monsieur de Chagny, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me..."  
With this, she picked herself up off of the floor and left the house on the lake.  
Erik collapsed into a nearby chair and clutched at his heart. He didn't mean to hurt her like that. It was an impulsive reaction. He could not help himself. He'd never been in love before; he didn't know how to treat a woman. On the other hand, people had been calling him a monster his entire life. His initial impulse in response to such was to react with violence. The thought had never occurred to him in that brief moment that this violence was being inflicted upon his dear angel. What could he do now? He couldn't go after her to try to stop her. No! This would only worsen matters. All that he could do was to let her go to her fop and hope that she would return on her own accord...

It was a few hours before Christine arrived at the Chagny estate. She was dressed in a veil so as to hide her cheek which was now bruised where Erik and stuck her. All she wanted now was to be back in Raoul's arms, away from that cruel monster who had done so much to hurt her. She walked up the front steps and knocked on the large front door. The door was opened by a fairly tall butler with dark hair and a mustache.  
"May I help you, Mademoiselle?" the butler asked her.  
"Yes, I would like to request an audience with the Vicomte de Chagny. Is he at home by any chance?"  
"Yes. Is he expecting you?"  
Christine shook her head.  
"No, I am afraid not. You see, I am an old friend of his and I thought that I would drop by to pay him a visit. He will be very happy to see me; I am sure of it."  
"May I have your name to inform Monsieur le Vicomte who it is who desires an audience with him?"  
"Of course, Monsieur. Mademoiselle Christine Daaé. Please, tell Monsieur de Chagny that my request is fairly urgent..."  
"Of course, Mademoiselle Daaé. Please come in. You may have a seat in the living room while I go inform Monsieur le Vicomte of your presence..."  
She followed the Butler inside of the mansion and to the living room where he left her. Christine had a seat on a sofa in the room. It had only been that same morning that she had seen Raoul, and yet she felt as if they had spent a lifetime apart from each other. Every moment that she spent away from him made her feel as if she were dying. She wasn't quite sure as to why, but every time that she was around him, she felt as if her heart no longer belonged to her. Christine sighed. Surely Raoul would be able to tell her why this was. He always seemed to have an answer for everything. She sat there waiting. The door opened, but it was not Raoul who stood there, but instead the Comte de Chagny.  
"Oh," he said plainly. "I wasn't expecting to find you here. What are you doing in my house?"  
"Please, just hear me out, Monsieur le Comte..."  
"Haven't you caused enough damage to the Chagny name? My poor brother came home this morning with such a look of utter shame and defeat that I had half a mind to say he was heartbroken. But after all, he assures me that his darling little sweetheart, Christine, can do no wrong..."  
"Please, Monsieur, you must believe me when I tell you that I am not trying to break your bother's heart, nor am I trying to steal it for that matter. I am afraid that you have misinterpreted the relationship that I have with your brother... You see, recently, there has been a man who has been trying to make me his bride. At first I found nothing wrong with his intentions but... the past couple of months, he has become so violent about it for some reason. I fear the man may be going mad! It was about the time that these violent outbursts began to occur that I started coming to your brother for help..."  
"You're lying, Mademoiselle."  
"I am not lying," she said, lifting her veil and revealing her bruised cheek.  
Philippe was in shock. Tears now streamed from the young girl's eyes. He had seen her only last night at the opera. This injury was fresh. Could what she had been telling him be true? All this time, could it have just been a mistake? Did Raoul not really love her in the same way as he had initially thought? Was his brother just trying to be a gentleman and to protect Mlle Daaé from harm? Philippe wanted to say something to the girl, to apologize to her, but she simply hid her face once more in her veil.  
"Mademoiselle Daaé, please allow me to apologize. You see, I was under the impression that you were in love with my brother."  
"I am," she admitted, "but I am not going to tear your family apart simply because I love him. After all, there is another man who loves me. I should be happy, should I not?"  
Before Philippe could remark upon this, Raoul opened the door and entered the living room. As you can imagine, he was quite shocked to see Mlle Daaé  
"Christine?" said Raoul. "What are you doing here? I thought that you were going back to..."  
"I did go back, Raoul. I went back, and I told him how I really feel, and this is what he did to me."  
She lifted her veil again for him to see. Raoul came closer to her, shocked at the sight.  
"Christine... Christine, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have let you go back. I should have stayed with you..."  
"No, Raoul, you needed to leave. Do not blame yourself. There was nothing that you could have done about it..."  
"But now I can do something," he said, turning to Philippe. "Please, Philippe, allow Christine to stay with us for a while. I'm leaving in only a month and I can't bear to see her hurt like this. I promise that she won't be any trouble at all..."  
Philippe smiled.  
"Of course, Raoul. Mademoiselle Daaé explained everything to me and I understand now that what I had originally thought of your relationship was entirely a misunderstanding. Mademoiselle Daaé may stay as long as she wishes."  
"Thank you, Monsieur le Comte," said Christine, giving a nod.  
"No, thank _you_, Mademoiselle Daaé  
"That sound love, Monsieur," she said, turning to Raoul and smiling. He pressed a kiss to her lips.  
"Come on," he said. "Let's go get you up to one of the guest rooms."  
He took her hand and led her away.  
Philippe could easily see his brother's infatuation with the girl, and he could understand why. She was a swan, that beauty from the North. Although her breeding could never make her worthy of becoming a Chagny, she certainly looked the part. An elegant figure, grace, charm, beauty... She would probably be willing to do anything if it meant that she and his brother could be together...  
He decided to give more thought to the situation later and headed to his study.

It was the next day when Philippe found Christine alone and sitting in the library, quietly reading. She looked very charming there with her little book. Her hair shown gold in the light from the large windows and there was a smile upon her rosy features as she stared down at the pages before her. The only flaw was the blue and purple streak along her right temple; the mark left there by the unknown lover whom she had scorned with her reluctance to merely give her affections to a man she didn't love. Philippe wondered to himself how far she would be willing to go if it meant that she and Raoul could be together...  
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle," said the count as he cleared his throat.  
Christine put down her book and turned to him.  
"Yes, Monsieur le Comte?" she said softly.  
"May I have a word with you for a moment?"  
"Of course you may," she said, setting her book down on a small table and standing. She walked toward him.  
"You really love my brother, don't you?"  
Christine turned away.  
"Please, Monsieur, I have told you, I do not wish for my sentiments toward your brother to disgrace your family name..."  
"Mademoiselle Daaé, you are no disgrace. Surely your upbringing was not the best, but you posses the charm and beauty of the most exquisite nobility."  
"Thank you, Monsieur."  
Philippe smiled.  
"It's true. I would be honored to have a pretty sister-in-law like yourself."  
Christine looked at him confused.  
"What do you mean, Monsieur?"  
"I mean, that I may be willing to consider the possibility of you marrying my brother. If, that is, you would be willing to further discuss the matter in private at a later time."  
Christine's eyes lit up a bit with his words. Could it really be possible that she and Raoul could be married after all?  
"Of course, Monsieur," she said, surprised by his offer. "When did you have in mind?"  
Philippe thought for a moment.  
"Come to my chambers at eight o'clock this evening.. We will discuss the matter in private there. And don't tell Raoul about this."  
"But why not?" asked the girl.  
"We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, now would we?"  
"I suppose not..."  
"It's settled then. You will meet me at eight o'clock sharp."  
Philippe, took Christine's hand and pressed a kiss to it before leaving the library. Christine was ecstatic. The very person who had disapproved so strongly of her relationship with Raoul had now come to approve of possible marriage. She had only ever dreamed that such a thing would be possible. If she married Raoul, then she would be free from Erik forever. Could this really be happening? Christine sat back down. Raoul would be so happy when he learned that Philippe was allowing them to marry. She couldn't stand the anticipation! She had told Philippe that she would not tell Raoul about this, but that didn't mean that she couldn't hint at Raoul to be just outside the Comte's door at around eight thirty. It would be such a happy coincidence. Raoul would knock on the door and then receive the wonderful news that they could happily be married.

Christine did exactly as Philippe had instructed and arrived at the door at precisely eight o'clock that evening. She gave a tap on the door and heard the Count's voice from within.  
"Entrez," it said.  
Christine entered the room and closed the door behind her. She saw Philippe across the room, sitting on the balcony.  
"Please, come have a seat, Mademoiselle Daaé," he said, motioning to an empty chair on the balcony.  
She walked over and sat as he told her to. She did not want to mess anything up. If there was a chance the she and Raoul could be married after all, that she could escape Erik, she didn't want to lose that chance. Philippe offered her a glass of wine.  
"Thank you, Monsieur, but I probably shouldn't..."  
"Oh come now, I insist."  
She froze. She knew that she had a low tolerance for alcohol, but she didn't want to seem rude... Finally she took it.  
"You really are a very beautiful woman, Mademoiselle Daaé..."  
"Thank you, Monsieur."  
"So tell me; how did you meet my brother?"  
"Well... When I was a child, my family and I were vacationing in Perros-Guiric. I was taking a walk on the beach with my father. There was a strong wind and my scarf blew away. The very next thing I knew, a little boy ran into the sea to rescue my scarf. He came back with it, dripping wet and soaked to the bone and I kissed him for being so chivalrous. That little boy was your brother, Monsieur le Comte. His baroness thought that it would be a good idea for my father to give him violin lessons and..."  
"So your father is the one who taught my dear brother to play the violin?"  
"Yes, Monsieur. The two of us became fast friends and enjoyed playing together and listening to the old folk legends that my father used to tell us."  
"Really?"  
"Yes, Monsieur."  
"So then you must bee this 'Little Lotte' whom he used to speak of so fondly."  
Christine was at a loss for words. Had Raoul really told Philippe about her when they were children? How else would he have known that Raoul used to call her Little Lotte?...  
"You're not answering me, Mademoiselle," he said, pouring himself some more wine.  
"I... I am sorry Monsieur... I... I hadn't expected you to know that much... Little Lotte was a character from one of father's stories... Raoul used to call me that when we were children..."  
As she spoke these words, the Comte stood and walked behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders.  
"He once told me of how beautiful this Little Lotte was... About the gold of her hair... the blue of her eyes... the roses of her lips..."  
She trembled as she felt his hands running over her body.  
"Please, Monsieur," she said in a shaking voice. "I thought that you asked be to come here to discuss the possibility of your brother and I being married..."  
"Precisely. And that is why I have an offer for you, Mademoiselle Daaé. You see, how can I be sure that you would be a good wife for my brother without first testing you myself?"  
Christine shook her head and stood, turning to face him.  
"You are a sick man, Monsieur le Comte de Chagny, to think that I would ever make a harlot of myself simply to gain your brother's hand!"  
"Mademoiselle, I am giving you a chance to have all of your desires fulfilled. All it takes it one night."  
"One night? One night? All it takes is one night? One night for what? One night to lose every scrap of decency I have left? One night to betray my friend to whom you happen to be engaged? One night to betray your brother, the man I love? One night to throw away my entire life just to gain your favour? Give me one good reason why I should not run out of here, screaming what you've offered so that the entire house knows."  
"Because," he said, gripping her arm, "if you resist, I can guarantee that your time here will not be very pleasant. Now, Mademoiselle Daaé, what will it be?"  
Christine trembled, tears streaming from her eyes.  
"Please, Monsieur le Comte, please. I beg of you," she sobbed.  
It was at this moment that there came a knock at the door.  
"Philippe?" came Raoul's voice. "Philippe, have you seen Christine? I wanted to give her something, but I have not seen her since dinner.  
"Raoul!" Christine shrieked. "Raoul help me!"  
Philippe quickly released her and she ran to the door.  
"Christine?" came Raoul's voice as he opened the door.  
Christine rushed to the viscount's embrace.  
"Christine, what happened?" The young man asked softly.  
"Philippe! He.. he..."  
The viscount looked to the count for an answer, but the count merely shrugged his shoulders.  
"Raoul, I am sorry, but I cannot stay here any more," the girl said tearfully.  
"What? But why?"  
"I just cannot... I want to go home. I want to see my Mamma Valerius. She will be so worried..."  
"Christine, Christine... I'll take you home in the morning. Right now it's late. You should go to bed..."  
"But Raoul, I am afraid! Please do not leave me. It is so dark tonight..."  
"Shh... Hush dear. There is nothing to be afraid of. I'll even stay just outside of your door all night if it makes you feel any better."  
She nodded while clinging to his chest. She couldn't tell him what had happened. Raoul loved his older brother, and telling him about what had happened would only force him to choose sides. She didn't want to force that upon him. She didn't want to be what caused Raoul to hate his dearly beloved brother. She simply allowed Raoul to escort her back to her room without any further discussion.

The next day, the young couple was alone in Christine's dressing-room. Christine had applied some stage make up to cover up the bruise on her cheek so as not to worry her dear old Mamma Valerius. She and Raoul now sat at the small table, enjoying a lunch of sweets that the young prima donna was always sure to have handy in her dressing-room.  
"So is there any particular reason you just happened to have all of these sweets lying around in your dressing-room then, Mademoiselle?" the viscount laughed, popping a peppermint candy stick into his mouth.  
"In case I have a rough rehearsal," said the diva with a smile. "After all, who does not feel better after a handful of sweets?"  
"I suppose that you're right... So are you ever going to tell me why you were in my brother's chambers last night?"  
Christine turned pale. She had hoped that he wouldn't ask her that...  
"Well... actually it was to discuss a proposal that your brother had made to me..."  
"What sort of proposal?"  
She hesitated.  
"One that may have allowed us to be married," she sighed. "Unfortunately, things did not work out... That is all right though. You shall be leaving on your voyage soon. You do not have time to be thinking of frivolous things like marriage. You should be preparing yourself for your upcoming fame."  
"Christine... After I leave, we may never see each other again. I could die on this voyage..."  
"Or I," she said simply. Suddenly her eyes were all aglow with a thought that had entered her mind.  
"What are you thinking of?" the young man asked.  
"That you shall be going away soon..."  
"And why does this make you so radiant?"  
"And that in a month, we shall have to say goodbye forever!"  
"Unless of course," he said, taking his hands in her own, "we pledge our love to each other and wait for each other forever."  
She swiftly drew her hands away.  
"No Raoul! We can never be married! There is to be no question of it; is that understood?"  
Raoul was disappointed, but nodded his head. He couldn't understand her sometimes. One moment, she would seem to be begging for a proposal, and the next she wanted to hear nothing of marriage. What a fickle thing was the heart of a young woman... Suddenly Christine clapped her hands together gleefully and then made a present of them to Raoul. Though confused by this gesture the viscount gladly accepted them.  
"But," she said, "if we cannot be married, then we can at least be engaged. No body will know about of it but the two of us. There have been plenty of secret marriages; why not a secret engagement? We are engaged for a month, dear. And in a month, you will go away and I can be happy with the thought of that month for the rest of my life long. Just think of it!... _This_ is a happiness which can harm no one."  
Raoul smiled.  
"Mademoiselle," he said, "I have the honour of asking for your hand..."  
Christine giggled.  
"Why, you have them both already, my dear betrothed... Oh Raoul, how happy we shall be! We must play at being engaged all of the time."  
"And now, my beautiful bride-to-be, shall I escort you to your mother's house?"  
"Indeed you shall, mon beau."  
And smiling and swooning away with delight, the young couple left to go to the home of Mme Adelaide Valerius.


End file.
